


Beyond Fear or Reason

by Silirt



Series: Mortality and Evil [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Horror, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 150,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silirt/pseuds/Silirt
Summary: The surviving students fight a war on two fronts, trapped between evils each they cannot injure without aiding the other, with Hogwarts standing alone amid the silent chaos. Fourth Year of AU, sequel to Greater and More Terrible- we have traveled far and have far left to travel.
Series: Mortality and Evil [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1219544
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue: Heart of the Heart

Anthony kept a deliberate, but efficient pace as he walked through his own defenses, having not surfaced from them in some time. The other two had been more interested in the idea, going out to little romantic soirees in the Dendi Kingdom, known to the muggles as Mali, or a part of it. They had been to South Africa, as he understood it, though whether they were more interested in the Portuguese magic of the native variety he had no idea.

The Erumpents grunted as he passed by, though he knew they were capable of much more spirited expressions. Perhaps they were tired, or perhaps they hated him. He had, after all, bound them to servitude in the protection of his base. They were among the most feared creatures in all of Africa, and little else would have sufficed for his own protection. Creating an impossible space had been difficult, but with practice he had managed to accomplish it, having learned precious little from any source other than experience. Outside of the circle of magical beasts, he had an array of magical traps, designed mostly by the young man he had managed to rope into his service, as his home happened to be in Liberia. He was a few years older, and exceptionally skilled in Transfiguration, which he used to create a multitude of pitfall traps, snares, and nasty-looking spikes, an application that had never occurred to the former Hogwarts student.

_They say your education is never quite complete until you travel._

In fairness to his former school, for which his sensibilities had mellowed, having escaped life-threatening danger, he had some idea that it was one of the better magical schools in the world. It promised a complete magical education for general purposes, boasting good relationships with specialty schools for Healers and the like. Not having one of them was a disadvantage he had felt a few times, as it had been difficult and time consuming to remove a pair of bullets from Harper's back, and much of the trouble would have been saved had they thought to bring someone with medical knowledge. _No matter. He will be more careful in the future, or he will die._ Anthony had warned him about negative interactions with muggles, as well as the reasonable limitations of shield charms. He had hoped at least Ginny was aware of the soldiers and mercenaries and their conflicts, whether her dearest was too sure of himself to avoid them or not, but it seemed even she lacked the sense to remember shields have a habit of failing to protect the caster from behind. _Gryffindors._ It was their macabre wish to see a real battle, and somehow they understood it to be a romantic notion. Privately, he supposed they saw it as a reminder of the fleeting nature of life.

Anthony scowled. In addition to the books of magic, he wished he had stolen the Philosopher's Stone, though that would have taken greater initiative.

He found the pair of them in the room he had taken to using as his study, staring at each other, as always, and he was sufficiently accustomed to the experience not to be bothered. He gave them no further thought as the servant, Wah, filled him in on his mail. It included a copy of the latest _Prophet_ , of course, though he knew he was going to have to read carefully, for the time being, before such a time as he was going to have to entirely stop reading, as the lies would be so thick it would no longer be worth the hours to sort through them. He would lose track of the motivations behind the lies before long, having been away from the island of his birth, and sooner he would no longer be able to discern the truth, just from looking at the lies that reliably arrived on his desk.

It was easy to come up with an example in the front page headliner.

"Look at this- 'Auror Corps raid leads to three arrests- no Death Eaters.' Do you know what this means, Wah?"

The African wizard said nothing. _Nothing out of the ordinary._

"I don't know either," Harper offered, answering for himself and technically the servant, since he had not actually revealed whether or not he knew, and probably Ginny as well, since they usually seemed to agree on everything. _The trick is getting the one who agrees with me to speak first._

"Well, think of how many people they had at Hogwarts that one time- had to be around a hundred, if not more. Is three a lot, when you compare it to what we know is out there?" he asked.

"They're not all in one place," the Syltherin excused.

"No, they're not, but the Ministry and its Auror Corps are ineffective organizations that really have no interest in protecting people. I can already tell you they arrested these scum on charges it won't take them a week to get out of, and even if they get put away, it's only a few of them. It's enough to placate the public temporarily, and they need the support of the public."

"Last week you said they didn't need the support of the-"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you said they could really just do whatever they wanted and the majority of people couldn't do anything about it if they tried, so even if there were millions of Death Eaters, they wouldn't win because of the secret magic stuff they have in the Department of Mysteries," Harper recounted. "This was part of your thing about how no one can fight the blood purists because they've taken control of the Ministry."

"They need the support of the people if they don't want to be magical despots. They need the support of the people if they don't want an international incident."

"So the French or someone could throw out the Ministry if they tried, but not the British?" Ginny asked. "They may have a few special artefacts in the basement, but does that beat the artefacts people have on the entire rest of the island?"

"The French have a Ministry and their own police force. Don't underestimate the difficulty of rallying the people of Britain under the banner of throwing out the current government, even if the people have a few outdated secrets." _This is getting out of hand._

"The Death Eaters command old magicks," Harper offered. "They can also reliably rouse the rabble. If the whole sovereignty of the Ministry is force, wouldn't they have been stacking up magical advantages of their own in the last few centuries? The Death Eaters will have this. Sooner or later, they'll wear down the incompetent forces and the Ministry will capitulate to the inevitable, as always."

"Well, they failed last time," Anthony argued, wondering what kind of inevitability the government had accepted in the past. "They'll fail again, with or without Dumbledore opposing them. He was always ineffective. He couldn't protect the students at Hogwarts, what do you think he would have done about Voldemort? Neither of you were there of this, but there was a Hufflepuff named Gabriel who died in my first year. It really was his own fault, the Ministry was trying to let him hang for everything Ebony had done, so they let Dumbledore just kind of handwave his death. It's ridiculous. I've never seen incompetence like that in my life." He looked between the other two Hogwarts students, briefly letting his eyes wander to Wah. "I mean, that's why we're all out here- not you, there's a different reason you were here."

"What are you doing here?" Wah asked. "I know why you ran. Why here?"

"It's out of the way, people speak English-"

"Those are excuses. Those are things that make your lie easier," the African wizard detected. "What will you do here?" _That's a bit mouthy for someone in your state._

"Is this an act of protest or something?" Ginny asked. _Was it an act of protest for you?_

"Have you figured out what you want to do with your life, Weasley?" he asked after a moment. "Of course you haven't, you're what, thirteen? Your only responsibility is survival, and the only care you have in the world is your boy-"

"Don't avoid the-"

"We're out here to figure out how to get an education and not die trying," Anthony improvised. _We're mostly out here for the second part, but there's no need to tell them._ "We can't just go to the African school, they'll turn us in. Hogwarts has ties with all accredited learning institutions, probably more. The best I could do was come up with a plan to steal books, learn from them in secret, and come back when the whole war blows over."

"That's when you leave? When the war ends?" Wah asked.

"Don't think we won't take you with us," he muttered back, guessing his motivation for asking. _If he thinks we'll leave when the war is over, we'll start seeing headlines about it every day of the week and I don't like my odds of convincing the others he's making it up. He's been a good help, so far, getting in and out of the school for us, but they've probably figured he's being used._ _The school probably knows we're in Liberia. We'll probably have to move, but since we're stored inside a chest, that's not going to be impossible._

Essentially, the trunk, which made a serviceable shelter early on, had been expanded significantly. It could not be opened except when it was lying on its side, and the entrant would have to crawl through a tunnel the same width of the chest before the expanded space, sufficient to contain Hogwarts, or perhaps a large prison compound. The house itself, which their guest had been kind enough to transfigure, was a three-story affair entirely constructed of a Ugandan lemonwood and bamboo, encircled by the Erumpents, who were incapable of recognizing them under the simplest of scent disguise charms. A Disillusionment, by contrast, would prove a fatal mistake to the unwary. The creatures were not blind, but their most credible source of information for detecting threats was scent, and any intruders to the fortress they had constructed would have to fight all of them at once to even make it to the living arrangements, and that would only be after they passed the traps.

"Well, do we keep running if someone finds us?" the witch asked.

"Yes, yes, it's all very romantic."

"That wasn't-" she turned away to conceal her reddening. _On second thought, the two of them might finally be over each other. It was what I predicted, after all._

"We've been reading the books," Harper started, his arm around Ginny. "How do we know when we're done?"

"We're not going to be done, the war's going to end," Anthony answered. "We only have to keep reading until then." _Really, we need to be practicing as much as we're reading. If our run-ins with the muggles have told us anything, these two are absolutely unprepared to face the dangers out there._

The first danger had come in the form of the Grootslangs that had been trampling- or slithering through their location, and he needed to do little to convince the others they needed to stay perfectly still until the sounds stopped. Realizing the chest could have been crushed at any moment by any reasonably sized animal had motivated moving the entrance to the base and its magically reinforced exterior to the shade under a certain tree, which Wah told them had a kind of supernatural concealment effect. The effort did not stop him from learning more about enchantments and applying still more magical protections to the exterior of the base.

He heard the unmistakeable sound of the wind rushing through the mangroves, looking between the stunned faces of everyone inside.

"There's an intruder- prepare for battle," he muttered quickly as he rose, wand out. _I heard the sound often enough to where I would never mistake it for any other- rather like a Wilhelm scream, only I recorded it myself._ In the same way as there were charms to conceal one's movement by absorbing the sound, there were charms that would release sound, and the latter-Italian enchantments from the book had been using the wards since the Renaissance for entirely artistic reasons. Anthony had repurposed the enchantment as a kind of alarm, absorbing the sound of wind rushing across the plateau to be activated when someone tried to crawl through a few wards, made of words that sounded familiar enough to most of the spells he knew. The hope was that the intruder would believe it to be the wind, though talented curse-breakers could probably get past it.

_Malfoy- it has to be Malfoy._

With the curse he had placed on the Slytherin, he had gained a much-needed bargaining chip if he ever ran into the powerful English families again, having the life of the sole heir to one of the oldest by a string. The best part was the boy would likely be too embarrassed to inform anyone that the curse had been placed on him. The worst part was that he was like to be back with a vengeance.

Ginny and Harper took their positions, the prior setting defensive fires and the latter crawling beneath the Erumpents, ready to provide any given intruder with an unwelcome surprise, assuming his combative abilities had improved. Anthony remembered to secretly hope that the red-haired witch would manage to keep the house from burning down. _At least they know what they're supposed to be doing this time._ For his own part, he would not be meeting the intruder head on, but he would be using an enchanted mirror to see if whoever it was could make it pass the traps.

To his displeasure, the intruder was wearing a hooded cloak of some sort, but at the very least trousers were visible at the hem. _It's a young man from a western country, almost certainly a wizard._ Going to the window as the intruder passed out of view, it appeared he had a broom all of a sudden, causing the master of the house to silently curse his own lack of foresight. _Almost all of the traps we planned to establish can be circumvented by flying over them- but who brings a broom into a hidden chest? Who even finds that chest?_ The profile was looking more and more like his worrying initial supposition, since the Malfoy heir was meant to be good on a broom. _He forgets, though, that I can take him down any time. I know better than to kill him, as I need my bargaining chip, but he will not escape with his memory intact._

Anthony had mastered the Memory Charm. It had served him well with intruders.

The intruder's strategy of flying over obstacles worked as well on the Erumpents as it had the transfigured traps, as he had relied on the aggression of the animals to be provoked somehow, and there was really little they could do against a wizard on a broom. Ginny was raising the wall of fire, but it was doubtful the plasma could keep climbing forever, though it would hardly be the first natural law magic had violated. From the window he could see the intruder evading every spell that came out of Harper's wand, not once returning fire. _I should have thought to have him learn more than anti-_ _personnel curses. I had intended him as a kind of counter for an expert duelist, if he ever grew into it, but the idea of flying in here never occurred to me._

"It appears someone has avoided my traps," Wah decided from behind him, causing Anthony to jump. "I am truly sorry. I did tell you that nothing could be completely effective."

"I remember- how do we stop him?" _The house is not defenseless from above- some of the warding is on the roof._

"I am afraid I can think of nothing at this very moment. Perhaps if you had allowed someone other than yourself to do the planning, some of what you have not foreseen would have been prevented."

"You've been working against me- all this time!" Anthony already had his wand out, and it was already pointed. " _Obliviate!_ " The spell might have set the African wizard back a few months, but he was not there to be hit. He had disappeared almost immediately. _How the devil-_

"I pity you, Anthony. I hope you realize the folly of your ways before death." The voice came from behind him as Wah leaped out the open window. _I can't afford to chase him and I don't have to- he's still marked. I just have to survive this._

A second year charm knocked his wand out of his hand as he looked after his escaping servant. Looking up, it appeared the wizard on the broomstick had made it past Ginny's flames, and a traitorous thought wondered if the young witch were alright.

"How did you find me?" he demanded, backing up as the cloaked wizard dismounted and stepped through the window. _He didn't do a thing about my servant- must have some way of writing him off-_ "You can use Legilimency, can't you- shouldn't have put it past you." _Harper's my only chance-_

The young man simply nodded, not coming any closer. _He wants to savor this. If only I hadn't lost my-_

"What do you want? Revenge?" he asked, prolonging his life by any means necessary. The hood of the cloak came up.

"No, there really are no hard feelings. I'd have left you to fall myself," Smith admitted. "You've got some good defenses here, I'd say."

Anthony responded only with the same wild-eyed glare.

"I hope you don't mind if I have some suggestions."


	2. Tea with the Longbottoms

Hermione arrived through the fireplace, though she was shown outside almost immediately, some thought in her head telling her it was time to get used to the magical world again.

For the past few weeks her mind had not left it. She had even neglected her regular studies for books of magic, their pages thin and worn, though enchanted to weather the centuries. Hannah had arrived at a solution to the question of warding themselves in such a manner that could be both hidden and changed without being pure magic, which would be easily detected or washed away by barriers like the one on Azkaban, though it was not particularly, pleasant. She started by drawing the ward out on a piece of paper for reference, condensing as many runes as possible without overlap, then used a pen knife to cut it into her lower belly, slowly, carefully, and painfully. It was another thing she had neglected to mention to her parents, though her physician was a different matter.

"Thank Merlin for the hypocritical oath," Ron had muttered when he heard. The same warding was presumably carved into his flesh, though the Ravenclaw had worried about his penmanship. Apparently, he had been thoughtful enough to take the piece of paper out of her letter, magically replicate the wards on his skin, and then use a skin-removing charm developed for potion ingredients to make the wards permanent. _I suppose there are advantages to living in a place where you can just use magic whenever you want._

The trick with the wards was that they could be healed easily in the event that they needed to change them, or were naked for some reason. Hermione doubted Hogwarts had physicals, but Neville proved that a dark wizard attack could land any one of them in St Mungo's, which was supported by wizarding taxes. _If you take the Queen's shilling, you do the Queen's bidding. Any public service is likely to be intently monitored by the Ministry._

In any event, she, Ron, and Hannah had been invited over for tea at Longbottom Manor.

"D'you reckon Malfoy's going to be here?" Ron asked as they were shuffled outside.

"I wouldn't put it past Neville." _I wouldn't put it past you to just attack him and take whatever consequences came your way._

"He prob'ly wouldn't show up, outnumbered and all," the Gryffindor decided, looking around as their eyes adjusted to the bright light. _I'm not the only one who's been reading inside, it seems._ "Prob'ly too busy being a prat and hitting his stupid girlfriend." _Well, I can always hope._

"Padma isn't _stupid_ , she's only being horribly misled," Hermione whispered back as Lady Longbottom greeted them, the tea set up on an outside table. Their Hufflepuff friends were waiting for them. _Now I remember why my eyes hurt- it was raining at home, meaning there's probably some sort of weather spell that keeps it sunny here- unless we're just in a different part of the country._ She reminded herself that magic being a possible explanation did not mean it was the only explanation.

"Well, if she's being misled by Draco-"

"-then she can't be much brighter than a troll."

The two of them looked up to see Augusta Longbottom staring at them, her grandson staring off into any other direction.

"Oh, by no means stop on my account," she said unexpectedly. "Whom are we discussing?"

"Padma Patil, a Ravenclaw in my year," Hermione explained hesitantly. "Basically there are a few people in our House who are blood purists now, and she's one of them. The rest are either leaving or joining the Hufflepuff conspiracy." It felt a bit strange to be relaying all this to an adult, though that was probably only because she was out of practice, having been living with her parents the last few months. _I would think she's had all of this and more out of Neville before now._

"Well, there's also Terry," Ron muttered. "So it's not as if no one's on your side."

Across the table it seemed Hannah knew what he was trying to accomplish, as she was shaking her head.

"You can't blame them for not taking our side when we don't really even have a side. What if you were one of them and Hermione asked you if you'd like to do the right thing and probably lose?"

"Then I wouldn't be _me_ Hannah, I'd be someone else. I'd be a bloody wanker for that matter."

The brunette witch to his left scowled at him, but said nothing. She liked to think she had a modicum of discretion. Looking to Neville's grandmother, she had taken the uncouth language as expected, but the sentiment was received rather well. For the record, he was right about his argument that he could not just put himself in the shoes of another, as the shoes that he had been wearing, so to speak, defined who he was.

"The Death Eaters have never been well-received by the Longbottom family, nor have any of their views been adopted. At the same time, the best part of the war was the end, and we took every opportunity to build bridges to their communities. It would never do to have them believe they were alone in their concerns."

A short silence followed.

"Do you believe their concerns are real?" the blonde witch asked, seeming to voice what was on everyone else's mind.

"The fall of the Statute of Secrecy would most certainly be terrible for the magical community. Millions of innocent people would die, and nothing would be gained, nothing of greater benefit than the cost, anyway." The imperious witch raised a cup to her lips, but spoke again before drinking. "Killing children born to or raised by muggles, however, is not an acceptable measure to prevent it." Hermione noticed the grammatical ambiguity, though she supposed it did not technically imply the old witch was uncertain as to whether or not magical children could be born by muggles, since there had to be some children with magical parents who died, in any version of the story, and some of those children would end up with nonmagical guardians.

"Well, how do we know we aren't doing enough already?" Ron asked.

"We don't," Neville answered. "We wouldn't know if we were, we wouldn't know if we weren't- not until it's too late, anyway." By Hermione's estimation, it appeared he had made his way through a few scones. "We wouldn't know if killing a whole bunch of people would fix it. Serious blood purists'll say they don't care rather than telling everyone it'll be enough."

"What other measures have they proposed?" the Ravenclaw inquired, annoyed. _It's not as if they seem to be interested in anything other than killing us._

"Malfoy says they'll be bringing more combative magic into Defense classes." Hermione did not fail to note he had stopped calling the Slytherin 'Silver'. "He says the Statute will fall eventually, and we've got to be prepared."

"Well if it's going to fall anyway-"

"That's not a reason to hurry it along," she said, cutting Ron off. "We need to be prepared if it does fall, and the implication is that we're not." She took a sip of tea, finding it was at the perfect temperature. _How do I know that's a charm?_ "Draco is certain the wizarding world would never win, or even survive, but it seems clear enough that whatever the result of a war, we cannot allow it to start." _Keeping Secrecy is just the only way we have available to us right now._ There were records of Dumbledore having proposed more radical approaches to relations with normal people, such as fixing their problems from behind the scenes and claiming credit for them 'when, eventually, we would be caught with our proverbial trousers down'. The blood purists already had enough evidence to convince themselves that he was a traitor to the magical world and its people, but this sort of thing was enough to convince the more moderately inclined. Despite the bad press the ancient warlock intermittently received about the idea between 1983 and 1987, he never formally took it back.

_Now he never will, not that it matters._

Understanding the arguments of the blood purists might have allowed her to keep Parvati from joining them had she made the effort early enough, but it relied on an understanding of the wizarding world she neither had nor wanted at the time, she had other things on her mind, and the very idea of taking Draco's position seriously seemed intolerable.

Looking up from her tea, she started listening to Hannah and Ron explain what they had managed to work out as far as the Hufflepuff conspiracy's basic strategy.

"Basically the way it'd work in any sane universe is there would be the Death Eaters and people who weren't Death Eaters. Then within those there'd be people who didn't give a damn and people who wanted to stop them. Then within that there'd be people who were willing to kill suspects on sight and people who weren't." _Hardly the best-phrased argument, but I can follow it._

"What they do is if you're someone who wants to stop them, but doesn't want to kill suspects on sight, they move you down one," Hannah continued. "Now you're someone who doesn't care to stop the Death Eaters. If you're someone who doesn't care to stop the Death Eaters, then you're a Death Eater. There are more steps than that, technically, but it doesn't really matter. There's a sliding definition of a Death Eater based on how far along you are. You're trying to outpace it, and you can't because it keeps moving. Some of the younger ones I thought were radical two years ago- they're way worse now. They're already talking about kidnapping babies to raise them to believe they were born by muggles, increasing the number of people who have something against blood purists."

She turned to Ron, expecting him to say it would only make more people Death Eaters, and not even necessarily bad people, but he kept silent.

As the tea was concluding, Neville elected to take Hannah around the glass gardens, since he had seen more of his plants than her all summer, 'so she might as well know about the affair', as his grandmother said with the slightest admirers. Hermione frowned with her eyes. Augusta Longbottom was not the first witch she met with a secret sense of humor, but it took on a somewhat crueler tone.

She and Ron were left to entertain her with questions to which she knew the answers.

"The Weasleys knew the Potters and the Longbottoms and they all opposed the Death Eaters with roughly the same commitment to their principles," she started. "Were the pure families put off by blood purism in some sort of alliance against the Death Eaters and Voldemort?"

"It was called the Order of the Phoenix. Albus was always fond of the particular bird." _She's not that old- she can't call him by his given name!_

"What did they do?" Ron asked.

"Technically none of it was legal, or at least not official. The Auror Corps was essentially not to be trusted, with blood purists controlling much of the Ministry, and as such my son and his friends relied on those they personally vetted. Their mission was simply to go after Death Eaters, making each of their arrests appear to be either incidental or justified beyond a shadow of a doubt." _It would be in the interest of the blood purists in the Ministry to make it harder to arrest Death Eaters, possibly by creating legitimate reasons for the evidence found against them. The Aurors would have to catch them in the act, or get them on offenses with light punishments._ On the face of it, it seemed an ineffective strategy to stick Amycus or someone with the equivalent of a parking ticket, but if the rest of them had any interest in keeping him from serving time in Azkaban, someone would have to pay it, decreasing the resources the Death Eaters had available to them.

Lady Longbottom told them the Order was under strict orders not to go after Voldemort himself, as he was powerful enough to defeat any one or two of them, except possibly Dumbledore, who had a reasonable chance of killing him or being killed. The trouble with pitching a battle between the two of them was that Riddle especially had no interest in dying, meaning he would usually be accompanied by a loyal follower, if his location was even possible to discover. From what Neville had been able to glean from Draco, the chief effort their master had taken in preserving his life was assembling the lords into his feudal protection and their armies under his command, aware that whatever his magical protections, there would be those who could get through them. He made no secret of the existence of cursed fire, which could apparently destroy anything, as the books said. Having seen it firsthand and having wondered if it could destroy a Philosopher's Stone, she had looked into the matter two years ago in the books of dark magic she had previously been accused of reading, almost entirely because the knowledge could not simply be allowed to escape her.

The discovery that it was possible made her wonder why it was not the first thing the Death Eaters who interrogate her would have tried to prevent.

_Well, Fiendfyre is supposed to be essentially unstoppable. Even Dumbledore had difficulty containing it, and he's meant to be capable of anything._

Hannah returned with Neville while Ron was interrogating his grandmother with questions about how the Order organized itself, and how the tactics compared with those of the enemy. She had a surprisingly good recollection of limited knowledge, which seemed to frustrate the much younger Gryffindor, though he contained it well.

"Hi, Hannah, how have you been?" she asked quietly, not looking at the marks on the witch's wrists- not long, anyway.

"I can tell you later. Do you have your shopping out of the way?" _She wants to discuss it when the others aren't around. Well, it's that or something else._

"Not quite. I have all my books, but I could do with robe alterations." Hermione watched Neville look away rather sharply, staring at a vine growing up the side of the manor, entwining itself around a bay window on the first floor. The implication behind the necessity of robe alterations seemed to have no effect at all on Ron, who had neither looked away from Lady Longbottom, nor listened to anything other than their conversation.

The man of the manor, as it turned out, had been studying plants as always, though apparently blood purism had interested him as well. She found him in the gardens, having forgotten to check on a sick plant.

"I mean, I would hope you're not convinced or anything," the bushy haired witch said, if a bit abruptly. The pair of them were alone, but it was better to assume the plants had ears. _There are more than enough of them with mouths._

"You know, Hermione, Malfoy said much the same to me about everything else I was reading. Apparently he read books on Padma's recommendation before deciding that none of them proved your parents were muggles." _He's not talking about me specifically._

"I hope he doesn't expect you to find me surprised," she responded, drawing out the sentence to give herself time to think. "With the kind of prejudice he was raised to have, I would think that anything would look like evidence in favor of conclusions he already believes." _The question is, Neville, what do you believe?_

The black-haired boy chuckled.

"Have you given a thought to what you were raised to believe?" he asked. "Apparently he has." the wizard muttered while watering, closely inspecting the stem of what appeared to be Aconite, next to a tank of what appeared to be a writhing mass of green tentacles, some sort of algal bloom in all probability. _I am really quite tired of all the magical plants that have tentacles. Tentacula, Devil's Snare, whatever that is, Snarfalump, and that's to say nothing of the animal kingdom. Who exactly bred all these things into existence? I had better not read in History of Magic that it was all natural._

"He has?" she asked, stalling. "That's a bit off for him."

"Not really, it was mostly a bunch of insults dressed up as sincere criticism. I wouldn't take any of it to heart, since it's not that helpful." Hermione had a sudden thought that he might really have grown, if he was learning to distinguish critique from bile. "The short version is nothing you say really matters." _Well, you wouldn't be in Hufflepuff if you weren't about to tell me-_ "The long version is that muggles have ethical thoughts derived from the most random authorities that contradict each other without any particular rhyme or reason. Books, moving pictures, even advertisements and the odd person in your life might have determined what you believe to be right or wrong."

It appeared the plant was dying, but not beyond help.

"Well, that's entirely unhelpful. If he knew anything about my ethical philosophy and criticized it, I could at least respond to that." _What he does most of the time is tell me and everyone like me to die._

"Well, that's not really why it's unhelpful," he began again, scratching his head. "See, he didn't tell me this, but the basic problem he has with any given idea of morality isn't that his is better, but that he doesn't really believe in such a thing at all. He sees himself as a wizard trying to protect the rest of the species, and he'll use any means necessary."


	3. Madam Malkin?

Hannah was aware they were cutting it close with the train. They would have to either board in the next hour or find some other way of getting to school, like a portkey to Hogsmeade. It had been done before, but apparently they required no small amount of ability. She imagined some underground business with equally shady clientele- women with the long cigarette holders and skin tight dresses, each looking to go anywhere but here... for the right price. _No, that's ridiculous. Witches interested in portkeys would wear proper robes._

On the subject of robes, she and Hermione had managed to secure their own before Death Eaters could attack the magical seamstress, or conspire with her. The blonde witch could never quite be certain just whose side she had taken. Oddly enough, they had run into Parvati before going in.

"More last-minute shoppers?" the Indian witch asked. "I don't blame you. The prices are much better, and considering my father works at a potion store-" Checking to see if it meant something to Hermione, it appeared to Hannah that her face was reddening. "Oh, Padma told you?" She sighed. "That bitch could get re-sorted to Slytherin, but she's still my sister."

The other girl left without explaining further, and she decided that the Gryffindor had complicated feelings. _I wouldn't wish complicated feelings on anyone. It's like the third worst thing about being a girl, and the fourth worst thing about being me._

Madam Malkin had them up on the stools again, though this time she noticed that the legs could extend based on how short or tall someone was. _That's clever._

"How are you managing?" her Ravenclaw friend asked, somewhat directly.

"It's not that bad." _She can probably see the marks on my wrists. Now Madam Malkin will know too. Hopefully she won't know what to report, whoever her master is._ "I haven't killed anyone yet."

Hermione blinked.

"How is your life?"

"Oh, it's alright, lying to my parents and all. I hear Ron's almost caught up to me."

"What was that joke Parvati was telling about her dad's job?" Hannah asked as the tailor raised her arms from behind her.

"Well, a few years ago, the Weasley twins decided to have a bit of fun at my expense. They bribed a few students my age to act really stereotypical, whatever their stereotypes were, then when Padma told me about it at the end of the year, I failed to distinguish where the pretending stopped." _I would think that would be embarrassing._

"Was Cho faking it?"

"Maybe? I hardly spoke to her last year or the year before that, ever since Davies told her he liked her."

The blonde witch had not been there, but the way she pictured it, the Quidditch player just dropped it on her one day and stood there waiting for an answer. _I think I might die. I also might be happy._

"Was she happy?" _Let's try to remain positive. I can't bring myself to ask if she's dead._

"I should think so. Her response was 'this sparks joy', I believe. This was two years ago, so I might have lost the contents of my stomach."

"Well, that's good for them," Hannah decided, doing her best to ignore the reminder of how her friend had been acting. She had long since apologized for suggesting she drink an unfinished potion as a way of getting out of trouble, but it was a difficult time to remember. _I can't just ask her if she likes anyone- especially not by name._ "Don't you think so?"

"Well, I mean, I guess, technically neither of them are worse off as long as they're in agreement... and as long as it's not a dis-paralleled kind of relationship, or one where they're being coerced into it by a third party... which isn't to imply that Cho's parents would try to get her married early to someone likely to be successful-"

"No, like do you think they like each other?" _If I have to hit this girl with a kettle I'll do it._

"That's something that's hard for me to assess, given how little time I spend around either of them. I'm not prone to flights of fancy. I'm also not terribly interested in the private lives of-"

"Give it a rest, dear," Madam Malkin whispered sweetly, her measuring tape noting height increases for Hermione.

Guessing, or more correctly hoping the boys were already on the train, the pair of them packed their new robes, went out into nonmagical London to find the entrance to the platform, passing through it with their shrunken trunks pocketed.

"Thanks for showing me that charm," she offered, mostly to break the silence. "I don't know how I managed before."

"It's going around in Ravenclaw. I might not have heard about it otherwise," the bushy-haired witch responded. They passed a pair of Slytherins as they boarded, the final whistle ringing in everyone's ears. _I swear the damn thing's already moving._

"Oh, look, there's Ron," Hannah announced, not noticing where the two wizards had gone. It appeared their Gryffindor friend was sharing a compartment with Terry. _I bet they're talking about something-_ They were talking about Quidditch, or the World Cup to be more precise. _I'll find Susan eventually._

"-fucking Death Eaters all over the place-"

"What?" Hermione asked. Her eyebrows were about where her friend had expected them to be.

"I didn't want to bring it up around Neville's grandmother. Might be she had a heart condition."

"No, back up, where were the Death Eaters?"

"They were at the World Cup; couldn't tell you why. There was just a big dark mark in the sky and all of a sudden they were there. A fair bit of the spectators'd gone home, so there weren't many casualties, but everyone at the Ministry's been up to his arse in paperwork, Dad included."

"I was not aware you went," Terry said.

"Didn't think anybody else would be interested, since no one wants to talk about Quidditch. Don't lose sleep over the Death Eaters; they were gone not long after they showed. Reckon it was some kind of distraction, but I couldn't imagine what they were covering up." As he spoke, he was looking up slightly, as if in contemplation. "Might be they just wanted to make a nightmare for Fudge, since he's got one and it's bigger than a troll's-"

"That's quite enough, Ron," the Ravenclaw witch decided. "Is there an investigation?"

"Yeah, they're still wrapping it up, with all the other investigations they're doing. The Cup had been slated for Dartmoor for quite possibly centuries, so at least it's in our neck of the woods. Wouldn't want either of the other countries looking into it."

"Why is it the Minister's fault?" Hannah asked.

"Really it's not, it's just that it happened in England and it was a bunch of British blokes in masks. Well, mostly, I'm sure there are a few from someplace else. Point is, he didn't even warn the visitors, mostly 'cause none of them would have shown up." Ron took a look out the window. "Don't suppose he really saw it coming either. Since when do Death Eaters attack sporting events?"

No one could answer the question, least of all could she.

"Do you think we could invite anyone else to join us?" the Hufflepuff suggested. "There have to be more people who are turned away from the blood purists and the conspiracy after everything they've done."

"If you see any, let us know," Terry decided. "As likely as it is for someone to be afraid of both groups, it's more likely they'll be afraid of one more than the other. I've already had people tell me that they're getting out of the country _because_ they disagree with both of them."

"Well, we can't just leave," Ron objected, probably seizing the moment before anyone could suggest it. "We'd haven't a clue what's going on, and we'd be far away from where we're needed. If we can't just wait both of them out, we'll have to attack them both at once. It'll be small, bit-by-bit operations that make them think it's each other."

"What do you have in mind?" Hermione asked, evidently more skilled than Hannah at parsing his words. She noticed one of them, Terry most likely, had already cast the muffling charm on the door.

"Well, what if we cast the dark mark after levitating a couple of the mad Hufflepuffs off a bridge?" he suggested. "They'll have to have it coming- people who've tried to kill us- and we'll have to learn the spell somehow-"

"They'll go after us," Terry answered. "We're in arm's reach and the Death Eaters aren't. You're not dealing with soldiers, Ron, you're dealing with cowardly bullies who go after first-years rather than high-value targets." The Hufflepuff witch looked at her shoes. Apparently there had been Gryffindors involved as well, but there had been a report at the end of last year, almost unnoticed with all the confusion, of an attack on an unnamed Slytherin third-year by a group of older students on their way to the dungeons. _I guess they decided they'd had enough of living with rules._

"The junior Death Eaters are in arm's reach," the Gryffindor countered. "We've got the room, so they can't attack us in bed."

"Ron, there's another issue with this," the Ravenclaw witch objected. "If we just attack people, it'll be murder..."

"Well, they don't have to be dead _per se_ , might be they're just not out there killing us. I didn't suggest going after them while they're sleeping-"

"If they don't die, they'll tell everyone it was-"

"Then we'll memory charm them!" Hannah suggested. _Why am I taking Ron's side?_

"That's not better," Hermione decided. "Erasing their recent memories would be one thing, but erasing all of them would be virtually the same as murder. The problem with erasing their recent memories and putting them in the Hospital Wing is that they will be out in a week, and we'll still have incited a war. They're going to go after the first-years, and some of them will die."

"That won't be our fault," the red-haired wizard argued. "Besides, I don't see how this is going to get any better unless someone dies. We can't just throw them in Azkaban- I mean, really, what do you do when one of them just goes on a rampage and clears out Slytherin? Send a sternly worded letter? Celebrate because you didn't have to do it yourself?"

"Ron, that's unfair and you know it," Terry judged. "Azkaban is not the only prison in the world. Even muggle prisons would probably have the intended effect, as long as we subtract their wands. To keep from being unfair myself, you have not at any point implied people who are not active threats have to die-"

"Azkaban isn't just a stumbling block," Hannah argued. "It's an example. Maybe the Death Eaters will have a hard time finding their old friends in prisons for normal people, but it definitely won't be hard to get them out." _They won't break the Statute, not with it protecting the whole basis of what they believe._ "If I were trying to break them out, I'd just go through the place polyjuiced to look like a guard, and then imperius all the other guards."

"Hannah, there's more redundancy in the system than you might think. It's not so easy to illegally free prisoners, though putting dark wizards in prison with muggles is a recipe for disaster, especially with some of them being saner than others," the bushy-haried witch explained.

_Some of them are also werewolves._ She hid her clenched fists at her side, thinking of getting out her writing pad.

"I agree," Terry started. "The real problem with killing people rather than putting them in prison- and this includes any prison we have available, like foreign prisons, is that it takes our efforts from some sort of vigilante law enforcement to a full-scale war. I understand the logic of 'they're attacking us, we need to attack them before they kill us all', but to the international community the Ministry needs to remain the legitimate government of Britain and to do so, there needs to be some way for hundreds of different states with hundreds of different ideals to tell the difference between Aurors and Death Eaters. We're not the Ministry, but that only makes things worse for us. We need to communicate to the Ministry there's some difference between us, the blood purists, the Voldemort loyalists, and the conspirators."

"The Ministry doesn't have to _know who we are!_ I've been lying to my dad for months."

"Anonymity was something we enjoyed last year, if that," Hermione said. "This year, I would not be so certain. Hannah and I essentially killed Umbridge by leading her into the wood where she died." The Hufflepuff witch turned and made a face. "They won't remember that it was an accident. We put ourselves on the map, and if those Slytherins who were working for her told anyone about the room before they were expelled, we also can't be certain it's secure."

"We could get back on the train at night," Hannah suggested, only just having thought of it. She stole a glance out the compartment window. _I thought I heard someone._ "It's the last place anyone would think to look."

"It's the last place anyone would think to look for good reason," Terry contended. "Firstly, we'd have to get out of the castle. Then, we'd have to get past the gate. I guarantee we'd be noticed by then. I don't know if the train would even be here, but there would have to be an entirely new level of security for getting onto the train, especially after the escapes two years ago." Everyone's eyes turned to Ron.

"We don't know where she is," he said at length. "The thing of it is, if you want to hide out in a magical community that's off the beaten path- most anyone can get out of the bloody 'mangroves' bit, you've got a fair few options." There was a momentary silence. _I really hope they find her. I hate to see him like this._

Noticing Hermione was reading, the Hufflepuff grabbed her writing pad and did her best to plan out her assignments in between the classes on her schedule. It was not a course load of which her friend would be proud, but she was going to have to work at it with equal or greater diligence to keep up with all they had planned for activities outside the curriculum. Ron and Terry were talking about the World Cup, though it seemed the latter only knew enough to hold a conversation, with the prior excited enough for the both of them. She imagined the Ravenclaw wizard escaping into a book, though she remembered that he had said reading on the train made him sick, since the words would 'jump up and down' and confuse his eyes.

Between the six hours she plotted for sleep, the three for studying, and the seven for classes, she had about eight for anything else she ever wanted to do. A mature voice in her mind was telling her that this included things that others needed or wanted her to do, but the final decisions were yet to be made. So much depended on the classes themselves and her ability to absorb the material. _At least I'll be studying like my life depends on it._ She remembered her mother's comment as she poured over books and wrote things down, anything she thought she might need, really.

The train did not come to a screeching halt as she expected it when her heart presciently skipped a beat, nor did a swarm of Death Eaters and their minions assail the compartments individually and demand they sacrifice Hermione in a gruesome, unthinkable way and make them all lick the blood off the grass. There was no announcement from the conductor and she doubted anything would be mentioned in the _Prophet_ the following morning or any time in the week after that. What happened was something that she knew she would remember, if not down to the last detail then at least the last word out of everyone's mouth.

Colin Creevey had come to the compartment, some kind of frightened look on his face.

"Terry, I know him- he's one of-"

"Don't worry- he never heard anything, I can be certain of it-"

"What the bloody hell- never mind get him out of the hallway," Ron muttered, rising and lifting the locking charm on the door, grabbing the third year and pulling him into the compartment, much to his surprise. "Can't have anyone else listening in; might else well do this inside the muffle charm."

"Oh, thank you, please, don't breathe a word of this to anyone," the Slytherin managed, somewhat unsteady.

"Are you being threatened?" Hannah asked. The boy almost looked amused.

"Am I being threatened? When am I not being threatened?" It appeared no one else was responding to his coping mechanism. "I'm sorry about, well, everything, but you have to help me. I can't be in Malfoy's service anymore, I just can't do it- but if anything I've learned gets out, he'll kill me."


	4. Fortress Hogwarts

If Parkinson or Bulstrode noticed anything in his expression as Nott told him Creevey was missing, they said nothing, but Draco doubted they did. Slytherin witches were a sort of their own, not known for ostentatious displays of emotion, usually ice rather than fire below the surface, or so his mother told him. They took a semi-divine inspiration from Morgan Le Fay, setting an appropriately high bar, though he was not sure all of them quite lived up to it. _Ah, but would it be high enough if there could be a certainty of attainment?_

His mind had not left the plans for Hogwarts this year. He primarily concerned himself with the ideas of the Death Eaters, discussed at Selwyn Estate at the end of the previous year. Essentially, with the fall of Azkaban and the displeasure of the Dark Lord, matters had accelerated significantly from what had been expected around two years ago, and the blood purists would have to be rallied under a single banner within the school, and in effect cordon off territory in which the younger students could expect to be safe from assault by the conspirators, whether from Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. The apparent display of goodwill would allow them to get an early hold on the first-years, the better to determine which ones were mudbloods, informing them of their true heritage in time. Selwyn had spearheaded the discussion, having been something of a general in the last war. It had been he who decided the freed Death Eaters from Azkaban would be paying their way by going after high-value targets in foreign countries, mostly where some sort of tipping point could be identified.

The plans that were being discussed by the people around him, by contrast, were quite boring.

Crabbe was preoccupied with the Ministry's hastily made plans for a Triwizard Tournament, a desperate bid by Cornelius Fudge to save face in the international community after the colossal failure of the World Cup. The match had gone as expected, of course, with four countries under the British Ministry of Magic, old Cornelius had more chances to win than any other Minister in the world, but the aftermath was a planned disaster. Avery and Lestrange had every intention to kill most of the foreign guests while disguised as Aurors, drawing fire to the Ministry, but cooler heads prevailed. The Death Eaters would need little aid in throwing the administration out, and the goal was to make them seem illegitimate, unconcerned with the terrorists that created security issues for peaceful international visitors. Killing Bulgarians would likely make foreign ministries sympathetic to the problems Fudge and his cabinet faced, and in the event of a foreign coup, Britain would be governed by a foreign entity, which was unlikely to be better. A monarch installed from one of the old families would secure blood purism as the national ideology.

"Will you deign to enter the Tournament, Draco?" Parkinson asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"My efforts in the war will be rewarded with greater glory than anything the Ministry can imagine," he responded. It went without saying he had no need for the gold. _Perhaps it was a mistake to tell them. If they tell others, it may be discovered I revealed the information early._ He looked between them, smirking slightly. _No matter; all will be revealed in due time._

"It would be a shame if one of the Gryffindors won," Bulstrode obviated.

"Yes, and if one of our numbers were to enter, such a travesty would be quite impossible." Nott responded. "Perhaps now would be a good time to rid ourselves of Pucey?"

Draco frowned, but allowed it. Umbridge had cleared them out of quite a few older Slytherins who could have been chosen over the rest of the school, at the very least, assuming the anonymous 'impartial jury' took heritage into account. With that established, a dangerous competition would be the perfect opportunity to rid themselves of a thorn in their side, if one who had been quiet most of last year.

"Perhaps, but our attentions should be focused on the applicants who cannot be allowed to compete, as they are myriad." he decided, remembering something Gibbon had proposed. "In all cases we would be supporting Durmstrang. Blood purism has great friends there, and those who realize it will remember our aid." He remembered Nott had already applied the muffler, but as the train's whistle sounded, he knew there was little enough time before they needed to get out. "Strong candidates from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff cannot be allowed to win the competition, if they are selected at all." _These are the high-value targets we need to be taking out anyway._ "By contrast, weak candidates from those Houses are not to be touched."

"In the same interest, we would be wise to discourage weak candidates from Slytherin." the wizard opposite him said. Bulstrode glared at him. "Creevey comes to mind."

The four of them were silent as they waited for the mass of students to pass. Draco had no lack of faith in Nott's charms, but the spells were as easy to lift as they were to cast. Something much darker would be necessary for a conversation to remain secret as most of Hogwarts passed by. Finding a space in the flying transportation as always, he took a moment to appreciate the level of security the school used to prevent outside threats, with the train stopping on the opposite side of the lake, making it slow and difficult to invade on foot. There was a day when nearly all brooms were of the mediocre variety kept in the broom closets, and knocking targets out of the sky was anything but impossible, as attempting tricks on a slow broom was usually just a foolish way to die.

In the carriage he found himself joined by Padma and Daphne of all people, Goyle joining him as the door was closing.

"Quite apropos of you to join us, Goyle." he began, eliciting a slight smile from the Slytherin girl, who needed no explanation at all as to why it was apropos. She and Padma could carry on a conversation, but it was clear enough they were from different Houses. Daphne spoke of her plans for her debut in three years time, while the Ravenclaw appeared to be gauging how much she knew about the plans that were only just unrevealed. _It's a pity, of course, but that is the price of being overmuch purely old money. My ancestors were wise to be among the first to taint themselves with the Ministry, and among the benefits are the secrets we learn._

The flight held something of a new fascination in him, as it appeared he would finally be starting a year on a good note, as a respected fourth-year of pure blood, ancient lineage, and excellent academic standing. It seemed that at last he would merit the confidence he had in first year, though as was the Malfoy way he would be sure to keep his confidence just ahead of his expectations.

The carriage landed and the thestrals snorted as their cantering hooves stopped dead, trained for decades, and all for this very purpose. It was a truly aristocratic notion, as a more practically run school would rent them during the months while classes were in session, and it was a vestige of the great institution Hogwarts once had been, a place for the young witches and wizards to explore the furthest reaches of magic, the cares of the world, a world away. _Within my lifetime the changes will take root. The rootless half-bloods will be allowed to remain, but they will do well to remember their place._

As they exited, he made no gesture in expectation of the students from Beauxbatons before they arrived, as there were too many others who could see him. _There is no reason to impress the masses, not when it would be of no great personal honor._ Their arrival met his expectations of style, when he at last turned to look, not quite alone in the crowd of gesturing, excited students. _Those will be the other Ministry children, telling their tales as always._

The carriages most likely only carried them the last few miles, though it was possible they were enchanted to have flown much faster than it appeared they were flying at the moment. The nobility remaining to the school would have them approach at a deliberate pace, though there was no need to spend any great length of time in the air. Though the exact location was secret of course, he had some idea it was in the fashionable Aquitaine, as his father's French cousins brought wine his lord father could easily identify. He remembered his mother prodded that she could tell a Bordeaux when she smelled one, but it was best left to Lucius to determine which grape on the vine had been used.

Aldéric Malfoy remained silent, though his daughter, Excetré found it amusing, perhaps disregarding the disapproving glares as she laughed out loud, where a polite smile had been expected.

Whether Madam Maxine lacked the confidence to appear fashionably late, or Karkaroff was still later, perhaps unintentionally, the effect was visible enough as the ship rose from the water. It had something of a Spanish look to it, probably a commandeered galleon from the age of exploration, enchanted past all recognition, which allowed it to travel between entirely separate bodies of water. The younger students were a step behind in their reckoning, as indicated by a loud cry of 'but how the hell did it get in the lake?', a curiosity shared among them well enough. _Curiosity is wasted on those only compensating for their ignorance._

The guests would be greeted properly once inside, as the night was dark and the grounds were dangerous, so close to the Forest as they were. He wondered momentarily if the other schools had heard of the foul creatures that stalked the night only just outside Hogwarts, and then if they had dangers of their own where they lived. The French students passed first, impossible numbers of them exciting the pale blue carriages, clearing up his suspicions of the comfort of their travel. A fair few of the witches were of noteworthy beauty, though more than enough of them were atrocious, making him wonder what the point was of marching them in before the wizards. As for the Durmstrang students who came through the crowd of Hogwarts students afterward, well, it was apparent that these were the ones who had survived a few years at the institute already.

It was worth consideration where the first-years were, since they had been meant to cross the lake in boats, where the ship was currently moored, though perhaps they were already inside, with the Sorting taking place as the guests were being greeted outside.

"Doesn't seem like a lot of them," Goyle said.

"Only those who intend to enter the Tournament are present," Draco explained, having already sworn his closest associates to secrecy regarding the year's festivities and his having learned of them. "They will be taking lessons with the rest of us from their own instructors, and the remainder of the students remain behind, with the full benefit of their schools' facilities and other teachers." He hoped it was a sufficient explanation as to why some students had already chosen not to enter, though there was no telling with Goyle. There had been a minor difference in his behavior since the end of the previous year, though it had started to fade over summer holiday. There were no noticeable changes with Crabbe, unless he had treated himself to a haircut or something of that nature. With all his skill of reading expressions, the Malfoy scion continued to find it difficult to puzzle out his closest minions, though there was the complete lack of concern to take into account.

Going in through the Entrance Hall at last, noticing that his own House had done him proud by allowing the others to go first, avoiding any curses to the back, he made a mental note to scan for Inspectors among them. Whatever the old fool had promised, he would not be around to uphold, and the last thing the Ministry wanted was another dark wizard attack, ruining their international reputation even further. He remembered Greyback suggesting that as an avenue to consider, as it was the kind of simple, obvious idea that more sophisticated wizards often missed, but Lord Selwyn dissented. Essentially, the Death Eaters would most likely never gain the moral high ground from the Ministry, even in relative terms, and this could be attributed to the efforts of the Lestranges, the Carrows, and Travers, among others, quick and dead. The goal with making a scene at the World Cup had already been achieved, as many of those in hiding were returning to Britain, to take up the fight once more, and it was only an active leader that would unify the more energetic, passionate recruits, as well as those itching for battle, having regained their sea legs from their years in Azkaban.

If there were Inspectors at Hogwarts again, they had yet to reveal themselves in any meaningful way, most likely because the new Headmaster would not allow them to live if he knew of their presence. A skilled Legilimens, Professor Snape would be looking for them at every opportunity, meaning they would most likely not be using the mind arts at all. _They will gather their information by whatever means they have available to them. If any resemble Umbridge or Ebony, the Cruciatus Curse will not be off the table._

Finding a fair amount of new Slytherins at the table, along with the Durmstrang students, he decided to accelerate his plan to operate what was, in essence, a free protection racket for younger students, ideally first and second-years. It had been entirely his own idea, which went against the most explicit wishes of his father, but if he were ever to get out of the debt in which he had found himself, he would have to take out another loan, so to speak. He had informed Nott and a few of the older purists of the idea, and they were mostly in agreement.

_It may yet be impossible for the Death Eaters to take the high ground, but the same cannot be said of the blood purists. We avoided killing any students through the battle of Hogwarts, yet elements on the other side have no such qualms._

"Every act of Dolores Umbridge must be published," he muttered, almost entirely to himself.

"Shall I make note of it?" Nott asked as the announcement started. _It is unlikely that I shall fall with her, as few remember that the Lord Voldemort had agreed to propping her up._

If they were using his father's plan, the problem into which the Supreme Undersecretary turned could be turned into something of a blessing in disguise, as it increased distrust in the Ministry. Even the French Malfoys shared the view that though it should be clear enough to all that the institution was not to be trusted, what with the Inspectors, public perception could be helped along, the better to have it catch up with reality. _Having worked in the Ministry myself, I no longer doubt that the conspiracy among the Hufflepuffs started as a plant by the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps the students are continuing it themselves, but it is unlikely that the people of magical Britain truly consider the Death Eaters to be a greater threat._

The explanation of the Tournament was left to Olympe Maxime, the Headmaster of Beauxbatons and likely some sort of half-breed. _Uncle Aldéric must be incensed._

"Friends, ze reason we are gathered here should be apparent." _I suppose. We're doing this in English, then? Very well._ "As is tradition, we 'ave a jury that will select one champion from each _académie_ , zen zey will compete. If you 'ave any questions -er- ask someone else." _It might have been a pity we did not relocate to France for the Tournament, though Father would have forbidden me even if I had wanted to go. I might have had an advantage._ "Good luck."

A confused array of expressions stared back at the Headmistress, at least from what Draco could see. He had no questions, of course, and those who did would simply ask one of the guests. It was beyond doubt that the whole affair had been explained to them, or they never would have deigned to enter. They knew the risks; they knew the rewards. In the background of his mind it seemed a Ministry official was taking over the explanation, though it appeared the three trials themselves would remain hidden until the very days they were to take place.

The heir felt his eyes opening. _It's a test of cheating- you can't be expected to prepare for the trials without knowing what they are- and if I have any idea, all three of them are supposed to be impossible to complete without preparation._ On a surface level, he supposed cheating could merely be the forbidden fruit that each competitor would not take, daring each of them to ruin the spirit of international magical cooperation, but no tradition would have survived as long as the Triwizard Tournament without some level of intrigue.

His decision was made. Whether or not a Slytherin entered or won the tournament, no mudblood could hold the honor, nor could any personal enemy of his. Whatever pity they deserved for being unaware of their heritage, there were more than enough of them with no notable heritage, the children of Squibs, long since deprived of their memories. Others had even more ignominious backgrounds, as would happen when a wizard used Polyjuice to impersonate the husband of a muggle woman.

Draco's scowl deepened as his plans were forced to change yet again.


	5. Recruitment

Staring out at the crowd of students, larger than ever, he had some idea that there would be those who sided with the blood purists, those who sided with the mad Hufflepuffs, and those who wanted nothing to do with either, and out of them there was a possibility of making allies. Ron hoped the factions would see it as a wasted effort, with the foreign students leaving soon, but having allies in different countries who could speak different languages never seemed like a bad thing to him. In their first meeting in the mysterious room for the year, Hermione had already presented more than enough for three people.

"I am perfectly aware that it is the first night," she had clarified at the beginning. "The first night, however, is the time to get started." From her schoolbag she produced several heavy books, mostly on warding. "We need to all be familiar with this material. If that takes up some of your time to prepare presentations... I guess just don't worry about them."

The Ravenclaw's offer of relief from his duties was not to no effect. Though he had never hated demonstrating or helping others learn, as at least it felt like he was doing something, it also felt like he was wasting everyone's time, that they would be better served by Hermione and Terry leading the presentations. A book on what was called Economics of Strategy had mostly confirmed what he was thinking, and it gave him a fair few terms he could use to describe it. Basically, since they could do a better job teaching than he could, he had the comparative advantage in other areas, like intelligence, which it turned out involved a fair bit of dueling.

_At least I'm good at that._

The morning's classes out of the way, Ron set out after a crowd of Beauxbatons students, mixed in with a few Ravenclaws, or so it appeared. _Prob'ly jumping on the opportunity to tell 'em their version of the story._ Not all the foreigners spoke English, and it appeared a few of them were translating for the rest.

"Most of us are going to jump ship," a Hogwarts student confessed. "We're basically the House that does the smart thing. The others are mostly just picking the side that they think will win, or at least that's what everyone thinks." _Pretty much a guarantee that it's wrong._

The French translation repeated what was said, he assumed, though perhaps it would be free of expressions like 'jump ship'. _Can't say how well that translates._ A few of the expressions looked less confused, at least out of what he could see.

"Er, why do you not fight?" one the others asked. "If you run, they will come for you when they come to France."

"I believe they have already arrived in my commune," one of the ones with better English supplied. "They will not be content with Britain, no more than Grindelwald was content with Austria." _That's something I hadn't considered._

"I mean, they probably don't have anything against us, it's just we don't want to be in their way," one of the younger ones explained. _Reckon if I get a move on, they'll hear me at least._ "Some of them have gone to 'with us or against us'. As long as we're here, we have to choose. What's your school like?"

"We 'ave our own problems," an older wizard said. "Ze dark wizards want to restore ze monarchy. Well, some of zem are dark, ze rest are going along with it," he grumbled, in that distinctly _French_ way of his. "Per'aps I should be honored zat you see our land as a perfect place, but I am also... pissed. You see our land as an escape from your conflicts. Where will you go when your conflicts reach our shores? You say ze conspirators and ze Ministry and ze dark wizards can not tell ze difference between bystanders and enemies- can zey tell ze French apart?" _Not the best at the language, but I'll give him points for being expressive._

The flighty Ravenclaws had been stunned into silence, in what he could possibly call a culture shock. Being direct to the point of rudeness was simply their way, as much as the Irish drank and the English apologized and obsessed over tea. He was sure there were more stereotypes, but none that seemed to annoy Hermione any longer. _Always knows how to take the fun out of everything._

As the crowd thinned, some of them splitting off to discuss other things, Ron spoke to the older Beauxbatons student.

"Don't mind them. Mostly just scared bystanders hoping someone else'll fix it for them." He approached with a reasonable confidence.

"And you?"

"Ron Weasley, madman." _Might as well stick with it._ He extended a hand. "Have any interest in entering?"

"Of course," the other wizard answered, his grey eyes smiling. "Ze Capet family is ze greatest in all Orléanais, it will be ze Occitans who hide from glory."

"I see. Weren't you kings at one point?"

"Only ze nonmagical. Most of us were cast into ze fire, but my ancestors survived!"

"Well, are you anything special?" the Gryffindor asked, perhaps unable to help himself. _Wouldn't surprise me one bit if I ran into another Malfoy from across the Channel. World's supposed to be full of 'em._ "I mean, you're not just living up to-"

"No, we 'ave never ridden ze coattails, never. I am ze duly elected president of ze school. It would be a great shame if I did not enter ze Tournament, and not just to my family." _I guess not all schools are like Hogwarts, then. Can't imagine what use a student president is, unless they have that instead of Head Boy and Girl._

"I'll be on your side if you're selected," Ron decided. "It'll probably be someone dreadful from us, like Malfoy."

A fire ignited in the young man's eyes and for a moment he wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

"Ze Malfoys? Zey are 'ere too?"

"I'm afraid so. Doesn't surprise me at all they're over there. Don't reckon they helped water your fields?" he joked, remembering something about the revolutionary song. He had read up a bit on the period over the summer, mostly to get to Napoleon, who seemed like a respectable bloke. He did not much care for Robespierre, who probably also had relations across the Channel.

"Zey escaped during ze revolution. I should have known zey would come here." _Can't see why we can't just shield the damn waterway somehow. Well, apart from the muggles running into it._

"Yeah, that's prob'ly because we weren't blowing our lids off," he muttered back. The story of Britain was slow, steady change, unlike other lands more prone to revolution. As well as he could remember it, some of the French wizards were trying to get rid of the British monarchy at the same time, but the Ministry of Magic refused to go along with the plan, mostly because there was little point. The king or queen at that point could barely do anything that related to the muggles, much less the wizards, but apparently it worked differently in Paris.

He said _au revoir_ to his new acquaintance, not having much to say at the moment. _Wonder if they're getting any instruction from our teachers? No, probably not, they're overloaded already. Might be they have their own, since I reckon there are still some of them who need lessons in French._

Ron remembered asking his mother if she knew of a magical way of learning other languages, and she was excited when books and studying were involved, but he decided later that he should not have mentioned the French language, because he found his books on Napoleon in the waste bin the following morning. He had often wondered about his parents' commitment against prejudice; why it apparently did not extend to the French people, especially after seeing a few of the Beauxbatons witches. It was one of the first times he had been in agreement about anything with more than three Hogwarts wizards at a time.

He decided to head to Defense.

Snape was in the class, meaning Professor Lupin was probably working in the Headmaster's office, though he would probably in turn be getting help from the Deputy Headmistress. As he and Dean came into the room, the pair of them took a look at the decorations, which apparently included what he assumed were body parts of the hideous creatures created by dark magic, as well as paintings of the effects of various curses used to torture people. _Reckon the lesson here is that you'd better be listening, or you'll end up like them._

"The dark arts are the ever expanding abyss that surrounds everything wizardkind understands of magic," the instructor started abruptly, taking a few of the Hufflepuffs by surprise. "Regrettably, I have not been asked to teach dark magic, nor have I been able to grant myself that ability as Headmaster, as that happy privilege lies far beyond the borders of this land."

"It's illegal, then," Dean muttered, taking advantage of the muffling charm. Ron waved away the opportunity to speak. He had every expectation Snape could read lips, and what he really wanted to ask the other boy was why it seemed he missed a growth spurt or two. _Fudge probably sneaked in a resolution to ban teaching dark magic entirely, though it wouldn't've been his idea. Someone clever thinks it's a way of saying 'well if you can't teach dark magic, why do you need books about it?' in a few years from now. 's how I'd do it, anyway._

"Why don't you just go there, then?" Ernie asked. "Don't bother taking any points, we don't have any."

_I wouldn't be so sure._

"Detention, Macmillan. Perhaps... you will learn your lesson when placed among your peers, the three Durmstrang students I have already detained for dueling in the corridors." The thin lips under the hook nose twitched momentarily. "Perhaps not." As attention turned away from the amicably defiant Hufflepuff, the former Potions master continued undeterred. "Consider the dark arts, then. The dark wizards are those who have tread out into the murk, seeking horrors and wonders beyond your most... fanciful imagination. Many are amateurs, taking only what they need for their jobs, and in this they can hardly be considered threats. A killing curse, for example, can be avoided or blocked by means of a conjuration. Unlike the true dark wizards, they have no interest in going deeper into the darkness for magicks unseen by the civilized world. How then, would you respond... to the worst the darkness has to offer." He waved his wand, demonstrating some kind of floating haze of blue and black. Hannah jumped out of the way, amid the others who were stock-still. _We've seen this before. Quirrell- well, Voldemort used it to freeze Hermione and drag her around. I think she could still talk- since he let her, most like._

"What the hell was that?-" Snape responded to Seamus only with a murderous look. "What the hell was that, sir?"

"Curses from the dark are frequently nameless. Ten points to Hufflepuff for not having taken leave of your senses, Miss Abbot." He waved his wand again, dispelling the curse that had taken hold of the others. "It seems one of our numbers has not... entirely lost her lease." He started writing on the board with his back turned, but everyone in the room knew better than to assume he could not hear them. _Merlin, it's almost like he's enjoying this._

"To answer your question, sir, I believe Hannah has demonstrated the proper response," Parvati supplied.

"Nearly," Snape answered. "The proper response to magic unknown to you is almost always evasion. Conjured shields have a ghost of a chance. All the same, the response is... lacking something." _If he's not enjoying this I'll eat Seamus's whole family._

"The counterattack..." Ron started, trailing off momentarily. "She couldn't have known it was appropriate-"

"-and for this reason I did not take away more points," the instructor supplied, even as the young Gryffindor managed a 'sir'. "What is an appropriate counterattack to an unknown curse, if you can manage it, Weasley?"

"Killing curse, I'd reckon...sir," he responded. "Any kind of shielding advanced enough... well, it'd be a bit out of my purview."

"Are you implying you can produce a killing curse, Weasley?" He could swear it took the warlock more time than usual to say his surname.

"I can," Dean offered, cutting him off. "Would you like a close look, sir?" Oddly enough there were some chuckles from the back, when normally only Crabbe and Goyle were bold enough. _They're not here and I reckon they wouldn't find it that funny anyway._

Snape's hair might have curled, but he said nothing back for the moment, merely hitting the Gryffindor boy with a silencer. _Probably should've done that straight off with Ernie. I guess, though, that's one way of keeping someone from avada-ing you._

Over the summer he had given the matter a lot of thought, and eventually determined he would need to be able to perform a killing curse. There was no realistic place to put Death Eaters if he stunned him, and it was hard to argue that they had not basically walked into it. By swearing allegiance to Voldemort, whatever their underlying motivations were, they agreed to kill whomever their Lord chose. Each one of them had probably already killed several people, and would probably kill several more unless they were killed. Perhaps they considered those people acceptable sacrifices, but that was only a good enough reason if their beliefs were all true, which Ron doubted. Hermione told him that she had no doubt her parents were really her parents, and neither of them were squibs, at least as far as they knew. He hardly enjoyed thinking about it, but he doubted he could out-duel most adult wizards, meaning he would need something that could get through the shields.

_It's not like the Ministry's going to care if I stick to non-lethal spells. After all that shit last year about warding wands to keep track of combative spells, we might as well use the deadliest we can manage._

Class ended with an assignment, as always, though at least Snape would not be grading it himself. _He's probably told Professor Lupin that he can't give anything higher than a seven out of ten._ Apparently they were to curse each other and leap out of the way, with the older students required to Apparate.

"It's completely mad," Terry was telling him at supper. Hannah seemed to be in agreement, though Hermione had not been giving him an earful about it. "It's like he took what Umbridge was doing, and he's doing the exact opposite just to spite the concerns about safety at Hogwarts."

"Don't recall any time he had safety concerns," Ron muttered.

"There's going to be fighting in the hallways," Terry continued.

"Always has been. Where've you been going to school?"

"That's enough, both of you," Hermione interjected. "Have you seen this?" she asked as she dug a copy of the _Prophet_ out of her bag. From his glancing, the Gryffindor guessed she had already shown it to her House-mate.

"I agree, this is more important," the Ravenclaw wizard decided.

"Of course you do," Hannah whispered, waving away her female friend's confused expression. "Do go on; what's the propaganda machine saying this time? Are we allowed to use the word propaganda? I imagine they'll start calling us 'enemies of the free press' before long."

"Well, no. It's about the raid last week. To put it simply, most of the prisoners escaping from Azkaban had no place to go, some of them never made it off the island, and some of the ones who did were caught within hours." Ron nodded through the explanation. He had heard as much on the radio, but it was likely Hannah had missed out. _Probably never heard about the glamour they're using as a temporary moon._ "A fair few of the minions of the Death Eaters, some of them recent, some older, met up on a hidden island not far from Genoa, what the Auror Corps speculates to be an old hideout. Most of them were probably never informed that the Ministry learned of its existence after the last war, but-"

"Hermione," the red-haired wizard prodded.

"Right. So, the first few prisoners they captured were not terribly dangerous. Some of them had no idea where they were, so they're staying in the ruin. It's lightly guarded and the hope is no one will bother to break them out. A few of the prisoners they caught as they were escaping were taken to the Department of Mysteries- I don't know what's happening with them, but it's supposed to be an incredibly secure location. The writer of the article says if she knew anything about how they were being detained, she would not be allowed to report it."

"Well, that fits," Terry decided, rolling his eyes. "I would not be at all surprised if they're just going to be executed, since no one can go down there to visit them anyway."

"What about the Death Eater loyalists?" Hannah asked, her eyes suddenly wide. "Where are they going to put them?"

The Ravenclaw witch took a deep breath, hunching her shoulders slightly.

"They blamed the ruin of Azkaban on Professor Dumbledore. He's gone, so now the school has to suffer for it. They're going to put them in the Chamber of Secrets."


	6. Applied Runes

Hermione was under the impression Potions was going rather well, at least in the two classes she had of it. _I suppose I should not be surprised if the instructor really makes all the difference in this case._ She had been expected to brew a standard third year potion, one that no one had quite perfected under Professor Snape, but that was more due to the instructor and his perfectionism than the difficulty of the potion. In the book required by Professor Slughorn, the instructions were a bit simpler, if her recollection served, and all of the students had the right of it on the first try.

As she learned from Cho, it was a wonder that they managed to bring him out of retirement, especially with Voldemort back, the new Headmaster, and the school running a deficit according to Roger, but she assumed he had his reasons. He said himself that he enjoyed all of his time at Hogwarts, and for no other reason was he willing to aid the school it its time of need.

"Run along, now, children," the cheerful old wizard said at the end of the lesson. "I have a few old friends among our visitors with whom I would like to reacquaint. I only hope they haven't been swapped out by those pesky Inspectors." _It's starting to seem more likely he's here for the celebrity of the tournament._

The Ravenclaw witch kept her suspicions to herself.

Defense with the Slytherins had served as an opportunity to overhear enough of Draco's plan to run a protection racket for the younger students. As perhaps could have been expected, he needed to discuss it with a few other members of his class, and she could hardly argue with the wisdom of discussing it in Professor Snape's class, if in any class, as he and his associates were unlikely to be punished. It appeared he would be formally deputizing several students his own age as 'vassals', of all things.

It coincided with what Neville had told her, in any case.

At the Ravenclaw table for lunch, overhearing things turned out to be an even more productive endeavor, with Mandy Brocklehurst complaining to Marietta Edgecombe that the Minister had entirely, irrevocably bungled the Burma situation, and now as the country was being returned the royal family, the party least concerned with Secrecy out of the two that had been vying for power. To make matters worse, other powers had taken note of the misstep and were placing blame on the entire Ministry, which the older girl argued was unfair of them, as the records indicated it was an autocratic decision. _Ah. Marietta's another Ministry brat._

"I mean, has anyone directed a formal complaint about our Ministry?" Terry asked hopefully. Apparently he had mostly been working with an old colleague of Professor Dumbledore, a _machi_ by the name of Saavedra Pañán de los Wenteche, though Hermione had yet to hear much about it.

"Yes," Brocklehurst answered quickly. "Minister Carlemany of Andorra outlined a rather lengthy list of grievances."

"Has anyone more relevant than the Minister-" Marietta started.

"At any rate, the system can only be replaced for the better."

"Mandy, I don't think that's entirely true," Terry objected. "A government run by Death Eaters-"

"A government run by Death Eaters would at least be consistent and honest," the other Ravenclaw shot back. _Well, that's another one besides Padma. I suspected before, but..._ "They've already rid us of the horribly corrupt existence of Azkaban-"

"That was so they could get their friends out. We were there. We saw them-"

"Well, that's as good of a reason as any," Brocklehurst decided. "They needed the help, and they recruited it, destroying that awful prison at the same time. Did you ever consider that there could be two reasons for doing something? There were people in there who were never tried."

To Hermione, there was serious doubt that Mandy was anything other than fighting like a cornered rat. At the same time, from a deontological perspective, the prisoners should have been released from the cruelty of their confinement and gradual consumption by dementors- people simply could not be allowed to torture other people by means of eating away at their souls. It was a maximum-security arrangement, to be sure, and plenty of them had been arrested and tried for crimes that were serious by the same philosophy, but that they were quite literally being tortured on a nearly constant basis could not be allowed. It was not keeping them from escaping; if anything it seemed that a deal had been struck with the wraith-like nonbeings and they would agree to feed on the souls of the prisoners and never stray far from the island. The actions of the Death Eaters had not been motivated by adherence to any ethical rules, and they wrought untold negative consequences along with the release of the unjustly imprisoned, but in the months that had passed since the death of the former Headmaster and the near ruin of Azkaban, she had not succeeded in coming up with any other practical way of freeing the prisoners. In standing against the plot to raise Ekrizdis and fighting them, Professor Dumbledore had as credibly as possible rejected the notion that the prisoners, or perhaps only some of them, needed to be freed. If asked, she had no idea whether he would use a just deserts or a necessity argument, but there was no way of liberating any of the inmates while he breathed, leaving the Death Eaters little choice, even if they had wanted him alive.

There was no way of simply closing the prison legally, since no voting body in its right mind would ever vote against having a guiltless way of dealing with the dementors, who would otherwise be preying on people who were not presumably guilty.

_We have to find some other way of keeping the dementors from harming people. If everyone can't produce a patronus, we need to research something else._

Looking up to find a simmering Marietta who was answering Michael Corner's questions about the shouting, it appeared she had missed quite a bit.

"Terry, do you have any idea if warding of any kind could keep dementors away?" she asked.

"I don't know. I imagine a dark creature would be a difficult subject, since they're so poorly understood. There might be books in the restricted section on them."

"I'll get Hannah on it," she decided at length as the pair of them went to their next class. _If anyone can think of some way to make a ward against dementors, she'll be the one. I have no idea whether there are dark wards or not, but that may well be what we need to use._

Taking careful notes in Ancient Runes, she had some idea of how spell creation worked, though after a fashion it was essentially the darkest kind of magic there was. Most of the time, the new spells that were written into new books were simply modifications of existing spells, or variants that served slightly different purposes. The lack of interest in the subject was mostly due to the lack of need for new spells in day-to-day life and the blanket ban on dark magic, which was, in many cases, newly created magic. For this reason spell creation mostly took place at a personal level, with the average witch or wizard with the talent for it only creating one or two spells in his or her entire lifetime, at least as Hermione understood it. Professor Dumbledore had been by no means average, meaning his research might have been revolutionary, had he devoted his entire life to it. _It isn't any wonder he kept the books of dark magic around. Even without his principles, students inclined to study spell creation would do well to learn the risks._

After classes were over, she put together everything she had for the presentation in the mysterious room. She had an inkling, from looking at various books about Hogwarts, that it was a creation of Rowena Ravenclaw, a secret place that transfigured itself into whatever was necessary. At the same time, if she used the name out loud, someone could overhear her and look up what it was, or at least start asking questions about it. It was ultimately the same as not naming the group, which in turn they stole from the Hufflepuff conspiracy. She could, possibly, call them that, only because she and a few of her friends agreed on the name and its definition. No one outside the group would agree on the term and its definition- even Ron still called them 'the mad Hufflepuffs'- and no one outside the school would even know what it meant if she brought it up.

In the sitting room of the house the mysterious room created for them, she found Terry and Hannah as expected, but Ron was missing.

"He might be doing homework," the blonde witch offered, somewhat optimistically.

"Where's Creevey?" the dark-haired wizard asked.

"I never told him where we were meeting," Hermione responded. "Ron had an idea yesterday to use the footprint tracking spell to figure out his real intentions. He would take Creevey to the courtyard, tell him that we were meeting in an abandoned classroom on the first floor, and that he would be along an hour or so later. If he were to go report our location, it would leave him with plenty of time to go down to the dungeons first."

"That's a clever plan, but it may require some reworking," Terry decided. "What if he wanted to attend the first meeting before he told anyone to be sure we were being truthful?"

"I was looking at his eyes when Ron told him," Hannah revealed. "We caught him in the courtyard after Ancient Runes and I can be sure that he fell for it." _Ron's taking Ancient Runes? I suppose he wanted to get out of the other options, though last I heard he was still in Divination._

"Well, we may as well start," the Ravneclaw witch decided after a pause. "Our lessons have included continually less combative magic. Most likely, this is the result of the Ministry's overreach, with Umbridge and all that happened last year. Most of our teachers are correctly laying the blame, but even some of them are still basically being cowed into teaching us less dangerous spells." Their Gryffindor friend was not there to shout 'How dare they?!', but Hermione went over her prepared answer all the same. "They're divided. Some of them don't care and are still teaching us what they believe we need, some of them are settling for being able to teach at all when the possibility exists that illegal books could be 'discovered' in their homes while they are here. Either way, for this reason I believe many of the combative applications of runes and warding have been hidden from us."

"I suppose that explains why we have never heard of them," her Housemate said quietly. _Well, you would have to read books that discuss it specifically._

"So what I'm about to show you is illegal under most Ministries." There was no response. _Somehow it would be even quieter if Ron were here._ "It's a ward where you cannot choose the target, meaning the target technically activated it himself." She formed the runes with her wand, a few in Elder Futhark, though in the center she carefully constructed a Cuneiform 𒅬, which referred to the process of accumulation, as with grain. _It's not easy to learn, but the symbols are incredibly useful when you know the essential compounds._ "Do you remember that time I managed to put a frost ward on the stair?"

A pair of nodding heads answered her.

"Well, the essential difference is that it was active the moment I placed it. This is more like- well, it's more like a snare." _I'd sooner not assume Terry knows what a landmine is._ "Once the ward is completed, the fire effect the runes are describing will build until activation."

"And it's activated when the target steps on it?" the Hufflepuff witch asked. "Is it a matter of your magic travelling to your feet and activating the ward?"

"Well, technically, the ward functions more like a seal, and the slightest bit of magic will break the seal." _They can probably both tell it's a fire ward._ "The essential difference between a ward and a seal is that a ward is activated when it is placed or when the warden intends to use it, while a seal is active once it is complete and breaks the moment it is incomplete." Mentally going over the idea of explaining this to Ron in her mind, she noticed that her other friends were doing well enough understanding her, and seemed more than sufficiently invested. _I suppose enough motivation has been introduced._

"So we can use them like landmines," Hannah suggested.

"Yes." _I should have guessed. I should have-_

"Does the effect build until activation?" Terry asked. "Is there a limit, or are we going to burn the castle down if no one activates that any time soon?"

"Erm, well, yes, it's based on the circles I put around the center. The more circles that go around it, the greater the effect can be. I apologize if none of this sounds terribly academic-"

"We understand," the other Ravenclaw said quickly. "Suppose we don't want to burn someone to death. What other kinds of outer runes can we use in a similar way?"

"Right. This-" She waved her wand and placed a ᛚ on the table "-is the rune for water." She created another rune, ᛉ. "This is literally protection, shielding." _Ron might have been more right than he realized about choosing the time and place of battle. Even a basic shield you only have to touch with your foot to activate could be the difference between life and death in a duel._

"I think I've seen that one before," the blonde witch offered. "Are these letters or words?"

"Well, they were originally pictographs, but then people grew tired of coming up with new pictures for every word, so with some words they started putting two runes together where those runes sounded like the word they meant. Eventually each rune only represented a single letter, usually the first letter of the word it used to represent."

"But, at some level, the runes continue to represent those words."

"Yes. There were most likely hundreds of other runic words, though those were forgotten. If someone were to find them, it would provide something of a strategic advantage, unless there are other runes that mean the same thing in other languages."

"Why can't you just use regular words?" the Hufflepuff witch asked. "I've been meaning to ask that in Ancient Runes, but..."

"It has to be a dead language. Words that are commonly used change meaning, but with dead languages, the meaning never mutates- the word mutate comes from mutare, the Latin word for 'to change'. Since the meaning of the Latin root word will never change, the hope is that if you write the word 'mutate', as opposed to 'change' or 'turn', then in a thousand years, people reading your work will know what you meant. As far as I can extrapolate from History of Magic, this was the intent behind the Latin-based spells that we predominantly use in Western Europe."

"That makes sense," Hannah decided. "At the same time, I would imagine that those words that we use as runes once had more than one meaning."

"To a degree, yes, but languages were more Laconic at the time. Think of it this way. Waving our wands and saying incantations is spoken magic, while waving them and laying down runes is written magic. People have theorized that magic is all about intent, but really you can't expect a good result if you just say the wrong incantation, or even if you pronounce it incorrectly. We're only just beginning to understand what magic actually _is_ , beyond all the esoteric and seemingly distinct ways we have of using it."

Hermione said nothing more, as the lesson was over, and as she was momentarily lost in thought. This, the study of magic itself, how it really worked 'under the bonnet', was the kind of thing that she had wanted to understand since first year. _It's none too difficult to see where I became distracted._

After a more lighthearted discussion about the Tournament, they prepared for bed individually, deciding that it was better to turn down Terry's offer to sleep on the couch, by way of she and Hannah sleeping in the large bed if and when Ron came back for the evening. The dark-haired wizard made a face at that, but as she could not identify its meaning, she ignored it. As Hermione was washing up, she checked to see where she had marked the shampoo bottle, finding it unmarked. _That's the third thing that apparently restores itself. At the same time, the house does not simply return to its original state every time we walk through the door; there are minor differences._

The blonde witch got in the other side of the large bed, commenting that it was nice they could talk about something that was not a matter of life and death.

"It is nice. I only wish we could do it more often," she responded, not expecting it of herself to say it out loud. There was no response for a moment.

"Did you see Terry's face when you told him we'd be sleeping together, and he'd be sleeping by himself?"

"I mean, I don't think it's unfair... it's a bit cooler, I suppose, but..." she trailed off as she heard the other girl containing a chuckle, if she would die in the attempt. "What?" she asked at length. "If it were two wizards and-"

"Nothing, never mind. I just imagined what his face might look like if he heard that."

There was most likely quite a bit more that Hannah was not telling her, but Hermione decided she would not have it out of her any time soon.


	7. Many Will Enter

As Hannah had expected, Hermione was up first and already out. _I should really stop sleeping later than everyone else._ She rubbed her eyes and rose, dressing for class quickly. _Oh well, as long as I never have an interest in eating breakfast, it shouldn't matter._ In the unoccupied loo, another small mercy of being a late riser, she waved her wand with the pore-clearing charm as she manually combed her hair. Loading the place down with magical cosmetics, like Pulchritudinous Poultice, without which some of the girls in her year could hardly live, would likely only result in their disappearance, with how the room and its contents seemed to fluctuate.

_It's good enough for class._

She went to Defense, for which she hoped she had prepared adequately, having ducked out a vengeful Millicent Bulstrode before putting her in a full-body-bind, resisting the urge to kick her down the stairs. If what Hermione was saying about Draco running a protection racket for younger students was as she suspected, it would not be a good idea to have all them believing she was a threat to them, even the Slytherins. _The problem with trying to maintain a reputation in this place is that new students come in with nothing, or at least everyone without older siblings. I wouldn't normally be this concerned, I don't think, but it's another damn one of those matters of life and death._

Snape was silently berating Neville for his lateness, and hardly noticed her as she slipped in. Ron was nowhere to be seen. _Come to think of it, I never saw him this morning, so he must have been sleeping somewhere else._ The Longbottom heir took a seat next to her, apparently not noticing her lateness either until he looked over, jumping somewhat.

"Merlin, Hannah, when did you get here?" he whispered as the instructor deducted points from Hufflepuff.

"It doesn't matter. Have you seen Ron?"

"No. He told me he wouldn't mind entering the Tournament, but I don't remember if he has or not. Maybe that's what he's doing."

Hannah thought about it. _It would be a little too much, even for him, to skip class just to enter the Tournament when he could do that any time._

They had heard about the Goblet of Fire shortly after the introductory supper, and it appeared to be a simple enough artefact, which made sense for the purpose it served. _In fairness, I would have no idea how to make one myself. It must be an enchantment._

Defense Against the Dark Arts was uneventful, as the students mostly knew better than to challenge the teacher. The lesson concerned dark creatures, magical or mundane creatures altered by or born from dark magic.

"Miss Jones, what are the primary weaknesses of the dementor?" _We haven't covered them yet._

"Fire, professor... They are weak to fire and they can be starved." A silence followed Megan's answer. Snape stared at her, though he refrained from putting his hands on the desk to lean closer as he had in the past.

"The direct implication of having a source of sustenance is that they may starve, yes. I should hope that three years of magical education would yield at least this result. Fire is none so much a weakness as it is a painful, unpleasant experience. The dementor prefers cold, dark environments and for this reason finds fire... uncomfortably warm," he explained. "A dementor can be reliably kept from its food source by means of heat and the Patronus Charm; they are otherwise immune to defenses- magical or... otherwise."

It was an interesting thought, and it answered some of the questions she had had about dementors. When she first heard about them, she had hoped they could be used to some kind of positive end, but that seemed decreasingly likely. When she was being honest with herself, it was a fool's hope, like the thought of a Death Eater missing one time and hitting Voldemort in the back with a killing curse, though the reason that was a fool's hope was because there was precisely no effort she could put towards it. Anything for which she could take responsibility, however outlandish, would not entirely be folly. _Well, that's what I have to believe._

Between classes she spotted a crying girl in the hallway.

"Excuse me, are you alright?" she asked. Oddly, the younger witch drew back. _Well, maybe she does not know whom to trust._

"I'm not supposed to talk to you," the girl said quickly before starting to walk off. Hannah noticed her robes had a green trim.

"Well, if you decide you want to talk to me, whether or not you are meant to, you can find me after supper in the stairwell," she advised, regaining her stride on her way to Charms, a class split with the Slytherins. _It looks like another day of Neville sitting next to Malfoy._ She had an odd vision of him in another life being a top-secret informant, fooling everyone by pretending to be forgetful. He was clever enough to pull it off, but she doubted that was his motivation.

_If he really still thinks that he can build some kind of bridge with the Slytherins, he's some growing up to do._

The class started without fanfare. By the end of the first day, Professor Flitwick knew not to encourage the two Houses represented in the room to move their desks closer together, and the blonde witch at the back, next to Neville, who sat as close to his other friend as he could manage, could hardly blame him for not making an attempt.

"The bread and butter, as it were, for any witch or wizard is the Summoning Charm," the instructor squeaked. To demonstrate, he summoned a book off a student's desk, returning it immediately after confiscating a magical quill. The deprived student scowled, but said nothing. "The theory diverges from the simple levitation charm, precisely because it relies on direction, determined at the time of casting, and velocity, determined even earlier by the caster's degree of skill. There are simple ways of proving this. _Accio._ " He summoned another book to the front of the room, this time from the Hufflepuff section, but stepped aside to allow it to pass him by before catching it with a levitation charm, revealing to the class as the pages turned that they were filled with notes from the previous user. "We are all of limited means at Hogwarts." Draco Malfoy scoffed. "-and yet cheating is not permitted under any circumstances. If you purchase a used book, a teacher will be happy to clear it of previous notes." Without a word further, he waved his wand and it was done, the book returned to its owner.

They were meant to practice after that, first with things on their desks and then with things farther away, though this was more of a challenge for some than others. Oddly enough, Crabbe and Goyle had it almost immediately, and Hannah had a momentary thought that they had sympathy for the spell, for the lot of a manservant is to be constantly fetching whatever the master desires. As she struggled with getting the quill off a neighboring desk, the Slytherin boys were tossing heavier objects around the room, exploring the advantages of summoning and missing, summoning falling objects, and it appeared the half-goblin teacher was excitedly encouraging them. _I imagine virtually any other teacher in the world would be telling them to calm down. At least he's discouraging them from summoning knives around the room- where did they even get them?_

In History of Magic she had taken note of 'dueling blades' being used by the wizards of high society in ages past, and though she was not sure what advantage they presented, there was a chance some of her classmates were trying to bring them back. Seeing one arc through the air in her direction, she hit it with a summoning charm before grabbing it, narrowly saving someone to the right of her.

Professor Flitwick immediately drew the knife to his own hand.

"There will be no practicing with these in class," he managed, keeping his voice level, returning it to its owner. _Well, I suppose it wouldn't make any sense not to give it back. We're allowed wands._

After her morning classes she found herself at lunch, opting for a bowl of soup as she listened to the whispers behind her.

"The knife was silver- do you think it hurt?"

Her spine stiffened.

"Well, it must have. Getting cut would hurt anyone." The student speaking was a boy, probably a second-year.

"It's supposed to hurt werewolves more," the girl next to him explained. "My brother said his friend told him."

Hannah left, having lost her appetite.

She had Transfiguration with Hermione, who reported a distinct absence of Ron at any point earlier in the day.

"Neville said he might have put his name in the Goblet," she recalled, trying to turn the compass in front of her into a pocket watch.

"He could use the money," the Ravenclaw witch added without a trace of humor. "Anyone aware of that could plan for him to show up- most likely on his own." She sighed. "I suppose for now we just do not know enough. What's strange is that no one has noticed Dean is missing."

The Hufflepuff had heard something of her friend's financial situation, though he was a bit embarrassed about it. If he really wanted to compete, or at least enter, she would understand, whatever else was going on. Despite the fact that she was a werewolf, she liked to think of herself as a human being, and that meant she could enjoy things, even when she knew they were distracting her from what was important.

_I know we have to fight. I know we have to be stronger to fight- but what if we lose because we didn't fight sooner? I can kick Millicent Bulstrode down the stairs. Ron and Hermione are even faster and more experienced._

She tried to think of what the best thing she could be doing was, but there were too many possibilities. _Should I quit school, join a band of ruffians fighting Death Eaters? What about the Department of Mysteries? Hermione theorizes they're the ones behind the group Ebony created, since their interests always line up._

Barely finishing the assigned transfiguration, she blindly followed her Ravenclaw friend for a moment before remembering they had different classes.

_That's right- I have Ancient Runes- yet another class where I don't expect to see Ron._

During class she took notes without calling attention to herself, though the whispers about earlier in the day did not escape her notice. _Maybe they think that if I don't respond, I can't hear them. Maybe they don't care._

Supper that night was no different, as it featured her distancing herself from the other Hufflepuffs as much as possible, sitting at the table for no other reason than the inability to find her friends.

"I mean, she's not that bad, is she? Sarah said she fought off another witch without even hurting her." _I imagine Bulstrode was late to class, but other than that-_

"Well, maybe the Hufflepuffs are taking the high road?" _Do you little shits have any idea how far away from them I am? Are you even looking?_

"I don't think she's like the other ones," a soft voice added. It occurred to Hannah that she was listening to children talking quietly from behind her back. _How the hell can I hear them?_ The possibility that she had only believed they were talking loudly hit her like a train. _Why didn't I think of it before?_

Her head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind her. _It's just a damn wonder I was able to see Bulstrode's attack coming, isn't it?_

"Excuse me?" It was the Slytherin girl from earlier. "Is this a bad time? I talked to some friends from the train to try to determine what kind of person you are."

"Clever," she mouthed back. The younger witch took it as a compliment, though they were distracted by the Deputy Headmistress making an end-of-supper announcement. _It'll just be something about the Tournament._ Apparently with the same thought she had, few students so much as looked up when she started speaking.

"May I have your attention, please?" Professor McGonagall started in a tone that was not normally used for questions. The usual roar of the hall dimmed. "Our international guests may be no strangers to the threat of dark wizards, yet, despite our recent perils, we are called to make their visit as safe and free from trouble as is within our ability. For this reason, I report the disappearance of fourth-year Ronald Weasley and request all hands on deck in the effort of locating him. The boy and his friends have a habit of attracting trouble of the worst variety, and it would be well to bring whatever is going on to light. I remind any Inspectors hidden in our midst that Professor Dumbledore's refusal to cooperate with any Inspection is still in effect, and will be enforced."

The Transfiguration teacher allowed them to resume their supper without further note. Looking around, it appeared the foreign students were taking the announcement in stride, rather than loudly objecting to the school's way of handling things. The face of a Durmstrang girl looked oddly sympathetic, if only in the moment before she turned away.

"Right. Where were we?" Hannah asked the Slytherin witch. _I don't know where Ron is. This girl may be in more danger than he is._

"I... I need to talk to you in private. Do you know a place?" A thought crossed her mind as the younger student spoke. _Does Malfoy recruit this young? He recruited Creevey two years ago..._

"We can go to any abandoned classroom. I smell Polyjuice." The witch did not react to the word. _Well, it's not a certainty, but it's a good sign._

"That's okay with me." As they walked, it occurred to the Hufflepuff that it might just be an ambush rather than an attempt to figure out where the hideout was, but an ambush generally required more than one participant, and she would only stop at a classroom or broom closet where no one could see them enter. _The reinforcements could be wearing invisibility cloaks, but I'll have one of their own... unless the girl has no idea what she's doing._

"What's your name?"

"Mafalda Prewett. I'm from Belfast."

The pair of them neared a classroom, the older witch staying close to the wall. _If they were here I would have run into them. If they moved, I would have heard them._ As she opened the door for the girl, she disarmed her, closing it swiftly.

"How do you know I'm a werewolf?"

"Please- I'm sorry, one of the teachers said something that made me suspect it."

"What was it?" she pressed.

"Professor Snape said there were three cursed students- he told me two were in Hufflepuff, one in Gryffindor."

"That wouldn't be enough-"

"Professor Flitwick said a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff stopped Umbridge- I asked him. I wanted the real story as soon as I arrived here." _She already knew the old bitch was done in by a werewolf._

"And you connected that to me because of this morning. Let me guess, one of them intentionally sent a silver knife in my direction?" _It would serve to confirm their suspicions. She'd have heard about it, being in Slytherin._

Mafalda nodded.

"Well, do you want to talk about what was bothering you earlier?" she asked, foreseeing a lull.

"It's really nothing."

"You said you couldn't talk about it."

"I didn't say that." _I know that. I was testing you._

"You might as well have. Does it have to do with Malfoy's protection racket?" _She has been introduced to the program by now._ The girl's expression changed, though she looked down, making it harder to see.

"The vassals... they've been okay, I mean, so far, but..."

"Are you in danger?"

"Well, not any longer, but..."

"Did something happen? Was it the vassals?" _Malfoy doesn't want his plan to fail completely, so he would have hand-selected his vassals and made sure they were protecting the first-years. The worst case would be if one of his own hurt a first-year. It could have been someone else under Polyjuice..._

"I'm sorry. I'm not meant to be talking to you." Mafalda evaded.

"Are you a pure blood?" Hannah asked. _It's one reason the protection might not apply to her... though that would make his whole plan unravel._

The younger witch seemed to pick up on the implication. _Of course._ She seemed hesitant to answer.

"It's really important." _Why can't you just tell me? I could turn this whole damn thing against Malfoy! Electrum and every last one of the bastards in my House would be after blood, and I wouldn't stop them. If you are, I could at least move on with the investigation._ "I promise not to tell anyone."

Silence followed.

 _Why can't you just- I could- I..._ She excused herself and turned around a moment as tears threatened her. _I've only been thinking about myself. I've been seeing this girl as an enemy._

"You don't have to tell me anything," the blonde witch said at last. "I'm sorry for, well, my initial impression of you. I probably would have spied on a werewolf too. If it helps, I really hate the fact that I... I'm sorry. I should tell you that I have to bind myself in silver chains. It's either that or learn to make wolfsbane and I'm not the best at following directions. If you ever need anything, we can talk."

Mafalda seemed to have no response, so Hannah left, rather than making the first-year check the corridor for her. _That's one thing I almost completely ruined today- now I have to find Ron._


	8. Chivalrous Vassals

_Better to reign in Hell, or so they say._

Draco surveyed the troops. He had been forced to return Flora to her father, who transferred her to Beauxbatons, though this was to little effect as she was back at Hogwarts. Apart from her, he had most of the Slytherin witches in his general age range. He was most surprised by the previous fence-sitters, such as Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. _Witches are more likely to sit the fence by nature. Mother did say that a witch must have her secrets, after all._

"We have the reports, Malfoy," Bole offered. With Quidditch canceled, he had little else to do but join the vassals, and his abilities met the standard. _A pity Crabbe and Goyle cannot be here. Though their abilities are quite possibly greater than many of these, the appearance of the force must be maintained. The entire rest of Slytherin House would never honor me if I put personal friends before greater talent, and they would never believe that my henchmen are talented. Nevertheless, I shall use their talents to my advantage._ He had told them they had the more important job of guarding him and performing secret missions, though there was doubt that the excuse would function. Draco reminded himself he had other concerns than their feelings.

_They will find Weasley or die trying. The world of magic will recognize them when it sings of me._

He motioned for Bole to begin.

"There have been no attacks since the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Assault of nine September." It had happened as the Malfoy heir had predicted. Undeterred by their previous encounter with Professor Snape, which landed them in precisely no trouble, the same group had come after the same objective, much like deer or musk oxen. _I shall thank Goyle for his excellent hunting advice. I had not known his father knew of trapping and slaying great creatures._

"The Restricted Section of the library has been tentatively warded," Davis began, requiring no prompt. After the attack, he had placed Nott and her in charge of countering any attempt to learn dark magic. _The Hufflepuffs are supposed to be staying away from it, but their allies are cocksure enough to believe they wouldn't be caught._ "There is no word of private study."

"The first-years are spreading rumors about us," Parkinson reported. "Already they believe we exist only for their sake." Draco merely nodded in response. Parkinson had the mind of a child, and he decided she was most fitting for the role of determining the nature of their gossip. The remainder of the vassals were mostly working under Bole in the direct defense of the younger students. _In truth there is more than enough bias in favor of pure Slytherins, but it is better they believe us biased, a poorly kept secret at worst, than dishonest._

"That will be all," Draco dismissed. "Consider only the honor you have brought to your families, past, present, and yet to come. Vassals of Slytherin."

"Vassals of Slytherin," echoed the group, starting with Davis, as always. _A quick one, that girl... perhaps she will have Greengrass join our ranks properly._

It was truly a pity he could not have Padma along, as he enjoyed her counsel, but her appointment to a House organization would not work. _It would be even less effective, given that I created an exclusive group within the Slytherins, leaving out the fence-sitters._ The heir to the line of Malfoy was perfectly aware of what Electrum and his predecessor had been doing by blurring the lines between members of the conspiracy and the Hufflepuff House in general. By claiming that they represented all of Hufflepuff, and not just a few of them, they could pick off dissenters more easily, as they would usually try to distance themselves from the real culprits. By labeling the dissenters as their own, the enemies of the conspirators were the enemies of the dissenters, leading most of their own fence sitters to implicate themselves in the conspiracy, bettering their chances in numbers.

_The truest testament to their success is that they have spread to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor._

Whatever the machinations of Ebony and whatever faction she represented in the Ministry, which had members in both the Department of Mysteries and the Office of Improper Use of Magic, the sentiment that Death Eaters and their children were to be killed on sight was not one that had simply been manufactured. The war had raged for many a year, and ended with a complete accident, by all accounts. Across Britain the fighters had remained crouched in their trenches, not entirely ready to raise their heads. _And now the Dark Lord has returned, to no great surprise of the world of magic. The war merely resumes after a pause, a mere moment of confusion._

Padma found him in Defense, which they shared. The subject was dark charms, something he had not believed existed, but there it was. A dark charm would be used in the same context as a light charm, but the similarities ended there. It would likely have an esoteric function, possibly only ever intended to be used once, such as the spell that removed animal organs and separated them, most likely the product of some lazy augur that let his work pile up and devised an entirely overwrought solution. From time to time a dark charm would be created to act in unison with other dark charms, possibly as an experiment.

"Do you need to see my notes?" the Ravenclaw witch asked him, likely noticing he was reviewing his own.

"I do not believe that will be necessary," he explained as he rose, the class ending.

"I have a good algorithm for note-taking and studying," she explained. "I've found that I've managed to increase my scores by ten parts over last year."

"Only ten?" he asked as they walked out, noticing her glare. "I jest with you, Miss Patil. I know perfectly well there was little room to improve. Father wagers a breeding pair of peacocks you'll be the top of your class soon enough." It might have been a legitimately pleasant experience, inviting her to his home over the summer, had it not been for the news his father and mother discussed while he was in the other room.

History of Magic afforded an interesting opportunity to learn of the greater heritage of wizarding Britain; it continued to irk him that while little being presented was actually false, what was stressed and what was almost if not entirely omitted had a great deal of influence on the reader's perception of history. Students would then write assignments on the false ideas they had gained from the reading, cementing them in their malleable little minds. The most central example was of course the amount of successful attacks on witches and wizards by muggles, which had cost Sir Nicholas his life, something the authors had never managed to cover up. Reading ahead to more recent history, there was nothing at all concerning the series of Ministry overreaches his father had explained to him; the whole affair had been explained away with a 'public perception' of overreach, making it sound as if no such thing had occurred, especially not in a recurring, deliberate manner.

He might have snapped at Padma when she sat next to him at lunch, and his excuse would have concerned his father's failure to return his letter.

"How was History with the Gryffindors?" she asked. _I wanted to kill most of them. Given the choice, I would have started with the blood traitors._

"It might have been better."

"Were you aware that the Dark Lord went to India?"

"I would assume he had. It was my impression that all great wizards traveled the world, if for no other reason than to see what was out there." He moved his hand under the table and rested it above her knee. They were at the stage where she would lightly slap his arm. _A Slytherin girl might pretend not to notice it for a moment, then anger herself when I move it. Her definitions of 'a bit of harmless fun' and 'completely inappropriate' change with the passing hour, independently moving up and down for no apparent reason. Pucey once said there's nothing quite like it, but I would guess he is happy enough to be on his last year._

"It was the winter of 1960, almost thirty five years ago now. My parents were young, but they knew what was going on. He had been interested in secrets, as always, but the community saw him as another liberal political figure, arriving alone and presenting a message of magical unity." Draco was aware of the caste system and the violence necessary to maintain it, though she might also have been referring to the border conflict. "He stressed that in the darkest hours of war among ourselves, we have to remember who our real enemies are. My parents were of a higher caste than most, and they thought they would be asked to abandon the system, but the strangest thing was that he seemed to not care about it at all. Whether the lower castes would submit to our direction or whether we would permit them equal status was immaterial, that we shed no more magical blood was perfectly crucial."

"I can only imagine how that would be received."

"All the castes believed he was simply covering for all possibilities, a decision under uncertainty." Draco nodded. He was familiar with reasoning and critical thinking, and it would be a safe day at Hogwarts before he was outshone on the subject.

"He might have factored the probability of victory for either side and supported the more likely," he decided. "Yet, there would be no guarantee that the loser in any peaceful, democratic resolution would accept its result. Whether by war or political manipulation, one system would triumph, and he would have both sides agree to acquiesce ahead of time." The wisdom of the Lord Voldemort was impossible to avoid; he knew his father would have done much the same, or possibly would have adopted a plan without the same boldness, and failed for it. "What did he find? I heard of a talisman once." _The Dark Lord would not so much as touch a magical artefact without understanding how it worked and the theory behind it. I see now why the Ravenclaw next to me begins to admire him._

"He wanted translations of ancient scripts," Padma explained. "The soul of all magic in India is _m_ _āyā_ , the concealment of the true character of spiritual reality, the illusion necessary to describe a physical world both real and unreal, not quite what it seems to be, and in a continuous state of fluctuation." _Did he require a translation from the Sanskrit, or whatever the devil you just said?_

"He wanted to learn illusions like glamours?" _They're supposed to be a more durable substitute for Polyjuice, but any buffoon with a wand can cancel them, making them almost useless at the same time._

"Māyā allows for such things, but the central essence is more complicated. Vices and the darkness of soul conceal the light of truth from wizardkind, and māyā enables these vices. It is the fault of deceit, of the self and of others, that leads to false beliefs, and it is the tendency to believe things that are unreal."

Draco put a fist to his mouth to conceal his pursed lips, which in turn kept unsaid his comment that once again, there were too many elves in the kitchen in India. _On the other hand, I suppose concealment is something I need to understand._

"What did he learn?"

"If he gained from what was spoken to him, he said nothing of it. As you say, the Lord Voldemort intends to never die, and as such he never writes, with no reason to pass his wisdom down in such a manner. My mother watched him listen as a practiced wizard explained to him the concept of māyā, and her initial impression was that the foreign wizard was only humoring the locals, not truly interested, but he responded with rather engaging questions."

The Slytherin had other classes, and other work besides, though he had enjoyed the conversation. He was aware of how effectively he was spreading into Ravenclaw, though Gryffindor was proving something more of a challenge. Hufflepuff, while he had a set of eyes on their activities, was well beyond his reach. He would take any chance he could get for a vassal to recruit one of their numbers, as it would provide him the chance to remove high-value targets. Young Dennis Creevey had intentionally placed himself in Gryffindor, and Draco could hardly say he did not belong there. _He goes into the jaws of the beast for his brother. I cannot name him a vassal while the silent war rages at Hogwarts._

Getting up and going to his other classes, as he considered creating a vassal position for recruitment of the unfavorable Houses, which he would like to keep at seven, possibly excluding himself as the leader. _Parkinson, Davis, Nott, Derrick and Bole, and Creevey so far. Bulstrode's too ugly, Zabini can have a post if I ever see him again, but he's likely gone the way of Harper._ It annoyed him, but he had seen it coming and the darker boy had not been an apprentice of his. It was quite possible that he transferred, and in that event was not exactly hiding, but he had not informed anyone of his decision to leave in advance. _I should leave a space for an older student, ideally a seventh-year._

Supper that evening would at least be more interesting than the last, as the Triwizard Champions were meant to be announced. Draco had it on good authority that Fleur Delacour had entered, and her beauty was only matched by her brilliance. It would be a wonder what the rabble of Hogwarts managed to produce, especially given that much of the non-blood purists who had not joined the conspiracy had the good sense to leave the battlefield, though the same could not be said for Weasley, unless that was the reason for his recent disappearance. _The blood traitor needs the gold; his entry would not surprise me, but his selection would only take place if no one better entered, such as a house elf._

Igor Karkaroff seemed allergic to speaking, and Professor Snape was loath to do more than stare menacingly, so the task fell to Department Head Crouch, as no one wished to hear Madam Maxine speak a second time. _How they put her in charge of a school remains a mystery to me._

"The Goblet will now produce the names of the Champions." He had a somewhat laconic way of speaking, though that likely explained part of why he had fallen out of favor in the Ministry. An eloquent, amicable fool would consistently do better in politics than a brilliant dullard. As if fulfilling his utterly useless words, the artefact expelled a small piece of parchment. "Fleur Delacour- who else could it have been?" he asked as the French witch inclined her head in acknowledgement, the remainder of the Beauxbatons crowd less accomplished at concealing their excitement. _Perhaps he intended it as a compliment._ The Goblet of Fire sputtered again, and a piece of parchment floated down to Crouch. "Cedric Diggory- I suppose everyone who entered had a chance."

Draco turned to see the older Hufflepuff scowling, apparently having understood the slight. The remainder of his House seemed caught between excitement and a perfectly indifferent response, with many of them rising from their seats, only to awkwardly sit back down again.

"They can't decide whether they're supposed to like him or not. Is he with the conspiracy?" Parkinson asked.

"My source says otherwise," Draco answered. _The day Longbottom lets me down and does not overshare I shall remove myself from the Death Eaters and produce a bastard by a mudblood._

"The final champion-" The goblet spat another piece of parchment into the air. _There are a few notable Durmstrang students. In truth, I have not given the matter much thought._ A look of disbelief passed over the face of the aged Department Head. "This has to be a violation of the rules."

"Continue," Karkaroff ordered. "Let us know who our champion is." _Viktor Krum is something of a celebrity. I do not believe I have seen him, however._

"You do not understand," Crouch argued. "Any student wishing to enter the tournament must write his or her name-"

"We are all familiar with the regulation," Professor Snape obviated. "Perhaps if you read what is written, your objection will make a modicum of sense."

The Great Hall was silent. Not a word was spoken by the students, not even hushed tones from the Durmstrang visitors, who seemed to be wearing the same expression, the same scowl.

"Evan Slytherin."

All at once the tables erupted with objections of all manners as the boy rose from the end of the Slytherin table, pulling back a hood from his chokha as a similarly dressed young wizard cast a number of shield charms, each cold and metallic. Spells flew momentarily, but a column of flame before the head table seized the attention of everyone in the hall. The Goblet of Fire was in ashes, but unscathed.

"The decision of the artefact is final," the Department Head explained, his voice filling a perfect void. "I shall hear your objections as presented by your Headmasters tomorrow night. For now, I shall explain to the Champions alone what lies in store."

As the four of them left the room, leaving the Headmasters to preserve the calm over the crowd of students, Karkaroff rose and confirmed that he was a student of Durmstrang. This meant that not only was he a legal entrant, but a guest on an international cooperation function, meaning he would be immune to threats of arrest for whatever crimes he may have committed in Britain.

 _Well done, old friend. I had hoped to either root for a Durmstrang or a Slytherin._ He looked at Parkinson with a smirk she would ask him to explain, sooner or later. _I suppose we Malfoys really can have it all._


	9. Interlude: Charlie

The Mountains of the Moon were like nothing he had ever seen before.

He had decided that Uagadou School of Magic was an unlikely place to look for Ginny a long time ago, but in between work and his encroaching doubts that he would find her alive, it was better to search in an obvious, accessible place than nowhere else.

 _I really hope I find something here._ He allowed a local student to take him to the carefully concealed entrance. The location had been easier to find than expected, since people discussed witches and wizards in the street. It had been a long time since he first looked for his sister and her fellow runaways, but he was doing his best to remain optimistic. Being honest with himself, he could tell anyone who asked very little about Ginny, given how far apart their ages were, though he had an incredibly detailed physical description in mind, more than was probably necessary to spot a redhead in Uganda.

 _If they're smart, and they are, they're going out as little as possible._ The idea that they might have someone going out for them had led him to the school, and there were a few good reasons for this. He reminded himself of them as a young boy lead him through the halls of the great rounded castle, architecture again unlike anything he had seen and for a moment his envy for being unable to see the Triwizard Tournament evaporated.

If they had not been found, their plan would have been something successful and something likely to succeed the entire time. Perhaps they selected it entirely by chance, or perhaps they had been reasonably underestimated, but there it was. The plan most likely to succeed was to use a magical child somewhere around their age as a liaison with the world around them. His sister and her friends could probably handle a fifth or sixth-year, but an adult could probably run cognitive circles around them. It was something he would not have liked to admit as a Hogwarts student, but even if the runaways were using something like the Imperius curse to keep their servant from revealing their location, the average adult could easily outwit them.

The best place to find magical children in Africa, which he had some idea was the right continent, was Uagadou, hidden in the Mountains of the Moon.

"If you'll come this way, Mr. Weasley." He stepped into a teacher's office, which seemed right out of an explorer's dream. The instructor was Professor Nzinga, who he assumed taught something like Care of Magical Creatures, at least from the trophies in the office. The student had disappeared.

"That's an Erumpent horn," he said, noticing it mounted to the dark wood of the wall. "-and that's a tongue out of a Runespoor. How the hell'd you get it?"

"That one was rather easy, Mr. Weasley. I found the creature already dead." _Might be she wouldn't have killed it if it were alive._ "I have heard something of your business here."

"Yes, I'm looking for my younger sister, Ginny Weasley. She's about thirteen at this point."

"How old are you?" she asked. _I suppose I have a youngish look about me._

"I'm twenty one." For some reason unknown to him, the witch gave him a sad smile. "I have some idea she's hiding in a natural setting, probably as far from civilization as she can manage. Most likely, she and her friends are being helped by a student here."

"I see. You want to talk to Wahde. She is about sixteen at this point." _There's only one girl by that name?_ "She is one of my favorite students." The sad smile turned into a brighter one. "The boys in her year have started to notice her, but she is unaware."

"Thank you," he responded, mostly out of duty, as some of the information seemed extraneous. "Why do you suspect she will know about Ginny?"

"When you came in asking about your missing sibling, I thought of her. Her brother has not returned since he was taken prisoner. You can ask her the rest."

"Where might I find her?"

"Look for her in the Portkey Room. It is near the top. Fliers land there." He left the room without objecting. _I suppose that last sentence was a reason for why it's near the top. I'm sure I'll see something._ He felt like a child as he went to the center of the castle, where he found there were Nguni bulls enchanted to float through the air, carrying groups of students to their destinations. _I suppose it's less confusing than stairs that move around all the time. It does make me wonder how there aren't any collisions._ He ducked as a young man rocketed past, swerving to avoid a pair of witches shaking staves at him. _-assuming there aren't any._

The lift took him to the highest level, which was connected with the roof. _I hope the fliers who land on the roof aren't all using enchanted cattle. It really makes me miss brooms._ He had been a Seeker, and a damned good one as Madam Hooch told him in private once, and he felt at home on a broomstick. It was not the only reason he missed his days at Hogwarts.

The Portkey Room seemed to have been made out of sandstone, as if everyone from the northwest had been tasked with building it. _Come to think of it, that's actually how it might have gone._ He found a girl who looked to be the right age studying a portkey, which took the form of a length of wood. Her hair was short, and she wore a red dress, which seemed to be the uniform for girls.

"Trying to figure out how it works?" he asked. _They're a bit beyond my skill level, but I know some people who can pull some strings. Might not have been the best idea to introduce them to the twins, looking back on it._

"I know how it works. I need to know how to make them."

"We have a theory that the escaped Hogwarts students used a portkey to get here."

"I have heard of them. When my brother told me a wizard had him under his spell, I decided the wizard speaks English. My brother knows no other tongues. I went to Burkina Faso and asked the Ministry if they knew of any disappearances." She turned away from the portkey to meet his eyes. "I was looking for someone who might be fleeing a conflict."

"The British Ministry notified every other Ministry. Well, wherever they are, they're well hidden." _She's a clever girl. She decided to learn everything she could about the captors to narrow down their position._

"They won't tell me what kind of conflict those children fled," Wahde said, shifting her weight and cocking her head. "Why don't you?"

"Okay, so the three students who ran off are Anthony Goldstein, my younger sister Ginny Weasley, and this aristocrat named Harper. Ginny and Harper probably just don't want to fight, and they have some idea that they'll be coerced into fighting."

"Would they?"

"I wouldn't coerce them. I don't know about others, though." _The Death Eaters might just try to kill her, which would force her to fight them. I can't blame her for running. No one can. I just don't know she's safe out here, especially not with the others._

"Why are you looking for her?"

"Well, I have to protect her. I'm pretty sure mum won't let her hear the end of it, though. Can't protect her from that." His words were answered with a wistful smile.

"There was a time my brother protected me. He rescued me from a Mokele-Mbembe. It was a long time ago. I cannot remember any time after that when he acted like an older brother."

Charlie might have been making a face, but it was unimportant.

"You think they're around here somewhere?"

"No. We are too close to magical government. I believe they are in my home country of Liberia." _Makes sense- they speak English, anyway. Goldstein's supposed to have family in America, so he would know they accept dollars there._

"And they'll be as far into the wilderness as possible, probably concealed somehow," the red-haired wizard offered as Wahde looked around the room for a specific portkey. _I guess we might as well go._

"How do you know this?"

"One of their old confederates, Smith, told my brother's friend about mangroves. Apparently they're all over the world, but at least we know we're not looking for an urban setting." The girl wheeled around on her heels.

"What else did he tell you? Where is he?"

"He disappeared not long after. He might have joined them, but it would be much cleverer to go somewhere else entirely."

The girl huffed, but she stood on the other side of the portkey all the same. This one was a rock. _I suppose it's inconspicuous. It's definitely not expensive._

"One last question before we go- what will you do if we find them?"

"I reckon it'll come to a fight," he answered, sighing a bit. "They came this far, so they're not going to come quietly, least of all Goldstein. I'll have to stun all three of them, and that's assuming we find them." He paused. "My sister's not all that bad, at least I don't think she is. I think it's mostly the other two influencing her."

The pair of them seized the portkey.

In moments they were in a different land, with a noticeably different smell to it. They were on the roof of a muggle building, somewhere in Liberia, at least he presumed. Wahde stepped toward the edge and pointed toward a mountain in the distance.

"They are somewhere over there."

"What's over there?" he asked, giving himself a moment to dig through his enchanted travelling pouch.

"Mount Wuteve. It's where I would go. What's in there?"

"Never go anywhere without my old Cleansweep. We're going to travel there like sensible people- on a broom, under a Disillusionment Charm." The girl seemed to nod as she mounted the broom, nearly making him miss the charm. _I suppose she's at least seen these before. There are Quidditch teams somewhere around here._

As the pair of them were flying on the broom, he found the African witch was a bit more comfortable than expected, even with his arms around her, as proper steering required him to hold the end. Charlie also noticed her hair smelled nice. _That's probably a bit too far. She's nearly the age of majority in Britain, but I wouldn't know how things work around here._

_That's no excuse, of course._

Landing at the foot of the mountain, he wondered if she thought her brother had been asked to find a place, though the more he thought about it, the more it seemed irrelevant. She could just be looking in what she believed would be the best possible place to hide, which would explain how the runaways had not been found. _I reckon I told her a few things she didn't know._

"Do not kill my brother," Wahde stopped and said.

"I don't intend-"

"He is possessed. There is a deep red mark on his chest, and he cannot escape them."

The red-haired wizard was sure his expression was showing too much, but he did not care. _Goldstein- Harper wouldn't know anything of the sort, not at the time, not last year._

"Goldstein's parents were killed by the Death Eaters. They've got a curse mark just like it. It keeps them from disobeying their master." The girl's eyes narrowed as he spoke. Whatever she had heard was not nearly as bad.

As they vainly searched the area, Charlie wondered how Voldemort and his servants were being portrayed to the rest of the world. The _Prophet_ could be counted as wartime propaganda, though the war never really stopped, and the propaganda machine kept running. Before long, other nations would see it for what it was. Never having understood the threat the forces of darkness presented, the Ministry probably appeared to be incompetent, especially as its greatest threat was apparently defeated by stepping in a magical mousetrap. Thinking on the event as he listened to it on the radio all those years ago, he remembered thinking the poor boy was lucky his troubles were over. The great Albus Dumbledore had speculated that some complex magical protection had been arranged, meaning the child would have survived the killing curse as its caster died, though if he had survived the fire, he would have lived a cursed life, forever hounded by everyone who wanted to understand how he did it, how he survived, how he defeated the Dark Lord. In its victorious fervor and already established disregard for the truth, the _Prophet_ had given the boy the lion's share of the credit for everything his parents had accomplished. Sirius Black, by contrast, had been given the entirety of the blame for all three deaths, to say nothing of the fourth.

_Basically they can't just leave the blame where it belongs because it belongs on the dead. Well, Voldemort's back, but he was dead enough at the time._

Wahde held up a hand. He noticed her ears were twitching.

"Wh-" She raised her hand to his face, silencing him. _It must be some kind of human enchantment. I've heard about them, but they're mostly dark._ Deciding that she had heard something, he crouched. _What's the difference between a dark enchantment on a human and a curse?_

"He is aware we are here."

"Is he alone?" Charlie could not be bothered who it was. Anthony or Harper would prove instrumental in finding the others.

"Yes." _He won't run to the hiding place. He'll run away._ The girl took a wand from her dress. _She could probably follow him quickly enough in that thing._

"I'll get above him. We need to keep him in sight."

"See that you do. When I catch him, you will be able to find us."

The red-haired wizard snorted and took off. Catching sight of movement in the distance, he wondered how good the African witch's hearing had to be to pick him out. Technically, they were really only assuming it was one of them, but he would not allow that to slow him down.

" _Stupefy!_ " he incanted, hitting a tree with the jet of spellfire. _I can't hit a damn thing from up here. At least I can point him out._ Maintaining altitude, he noticed another rustling beneath the trees, almost certainly Wahde making good her words and closing in on the suspect's position. He kept up with the spells he was aiming at the target, but all at once the movement from below stopped, as though his partner had stopped her pursuit. _Have to assume she's been killed. Damn. Those kids really don't want to go back._

_So why am I chasing them?_

Seeing the trail of movement start again, he took an educated guess it was the kid.

" _Stupefy!_ " _He'll get to the edge of the forest soon, and that's when I can get him. He knows I'm in the air, so he knows he can't hit me with anything because it's too easy for me to dodge._

" _Aquaeructro!_ " A jet of water burst forth from his wand in the direction of the motion. _This might make it through, at least partially. If I can hit him enough times, he'll give it up eventually._ To his surprise, the fleeing target cast a fire charm, igniting the top of a nearby tree. _Clever bastard. I can't just leave it burning, there are rare magical creatures in this forest and there's a reasonable chance the girl's still alive._ He had the water jet spraying from tree to tree as more of them caught fire, but only managed to keep ahead of the pyromaniac by maintaining a greater movement speed. _His advantage is I don't know which tree he's about to light. I can't just preemptively spray all of them, not while there are actively burning trees._

" _Protego!_ " His shield formed the moment the boy below him cast a fire charm, reflecting the burst of flame on its caster. _Prob'ly won't do more than singe him a bit._ Closing in, he cut off a last, desperate escape attempt with a stunner. _Wish I'd learned more about dueling. Might have more than eight or nine good spells up my sleeve._

The boy wore no identifying uniform, but it was clear enough he was a regular Brit, within the age range of Hogwarts. _Whichever one of them he is, he'll lead us to the rest of them when he wakes up. Until then, he's not going anywhere._

He found the girl where he expected to find her, apparently having been floored by some unexpected magic. _Can't fault her for not knowing what her opponent was going to use._ After trying to rouse her with a charm, he managed it with a salve made from Bowtruckle bark.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked after getting her wand out of his face.

"Where is-"

"He's knocked out. We'll question him, we'll make a plan, and we'll go after the hideout. They're not going to fly the coop just because he's gone, and if they do, it'll make it easier for us to catch them." he explained, still bent over her. _No vital signs are out of order..._

The witch huffed.

"I suppose. I suppose you also may have saved my life." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Let us go. There is work to do."

"Very well." he responded as she stood and straightened herself out. He turned the other way for inability to conceal his expression.

_Come on Charlie, you've got a thing of milk in Romania older than she is._


	10. Missing, In Action

Ron was in a foul mood, having hardly slept in days.

"Give me one jolly good reason to believe you or I'll put your wand up your arse and cast a fucking fire charm."

There was no excuse, however, for that sort of language, at least according to Dean.

"I'll take it from here. Get a shower or something. You need it."

Angrily obliging, he opened a few doors in the muggle apartment before finding the shower. The water was cold when it came on, but it washed the blood off all the same. _Damn muggle showers. Why does anyone with a wand live in this part of London?_

Listening to his confederate continue the interrogation as he stared down at the mixture of water and blood going down the drain, he contemplated the merits of exercise. It might have helped him chase down Creevey a few days ago, though another speed potion could have assisted with that as well.

The young Slytherin had taken a detour as expected, though he had not been alone. Fortunately, Dean was passing by and was willing to accompany him.

"How many are they?" the other boy had asked as they followed the illuminated footprints.

"Probably just two of them- see how he's moved aside a bit; he used to be walking in the middle. Further apart now; means he's picking up the pace." Tailing them had led to being caught on the stairs by Bulstrode and the target, who had realized he was being followed. Thinking better of taking the two Gryffindors on, the witch and wizard split up, getting off the stairs at different floors. As their own stair was rotating to a remotely helpful position, he tossed a knut in the air in hopes of going after Creevey instead of Bulstrode.

_Prob'ly my one bit of luck all evening._

Chasing after the younger wizard was a simple matter of dodging poorly aimed hexes, though the boy could hoof it on the straight away. Eventually he managed to tag the little bastard with a knockback jinx, which more or less functioned as a tripping jinx when aimed at the feet, and the result was a rather spectacular kick to the face before the target tumbled and finally stopped.

" _Expelliarmus,_ " Ron incanted. It was the standard spell for separating the Slytherin from his wand. "How much do you know about the group?"

"What group?"

"Don't be stupid," he ordered as he readied to kick Creevey. "Malfoy sent you after us and you're not getting what you want. We don't need help and we don't need it from Slytherins especially." He scowled as he spoke, remembering all that Neville had been able to tell them. _We need eyes and ears in their operation, that doesn't mean we need their noses in ours._

"Alright! Alright!" the younger wizard exclaimed. "We thought you might be plotting against us. In the course of our discussions, it became necessary to determine the entirety of your aims." _He's lying, but I don't know why._

"Tell us everything you know about the mad Hufflepuffs," he ordered, kicking the third-year in the chest to demonstrate conviction. "There's got to be a reason why everything they want just happens to line up with what the Ministry's doing. Why are the prisoners being stored in the Chamber?" _The Death Eaters know the Ministry a damn sight better than I do, all the way down to the Department of Mysteries. I need their intel- but I can't trust anything he says._

"It wasn't... our doing... I swear it-" Creevey managed. "The prisoners that they're moving aren't... any of ours. They're random criminals, some of them murderers, possibly, but all enemies of the state are being held in the Department."

"Which one?"

"The Brain Room. I don't know what it is. I don't know what they're doing in there. The whole of that which I understand is that the room-" _That's the Department I suspected anyway. Now I need to figure out how to get back down there. After that, I'll need to figure out what the hell I'm doing down there._

"Ron." Dean's voice came from behind him.

"Get anything good out of Bulstrode?" he asked.

"Too much. There's blood all over the floor. We need to move." The pair of them were off, though the red-haired wizard had no idea of their destination.

"Tell me you didn't kill that bitch." _Reckon we're heading for the stairs. Fair._

"I didn't kill that bitch. Anything from Creevey?"

"I was getting around to it. Mind telling me where we're going?" The pair of them had reached the stairs, rounding the banister in a jump.

"London. It's all about the Department. We can find out if they're inspecting us by inspecting them."

"Got a way in? I know a service entrance."

"Good enough." As the pair of them neared the ground floor, Ron decided it was doubtful any Inspection was going on, however worse it would be if he were wrong. If they were installing the prisoners in the Chamber of Secrets, they were posting a guard, meaning the Ministry could maintain a public presence, spying on the school without any need for sneaking around. _It's like it's a damn race to see who can kill us faster. If Neville's still on his rocker, the Death Eaters and the Auror Corps are both trying to get a stranglehold on everyone's children, but neither of them can afford to fire first. If this goes on as it has, fucking Malfoy's going to look like a bloody hero._

They were outside, but the wards were a different matter entirely.

"Can you transfigure a horse?"

"Into what?" Dean asked.

"We need one of those flying horses off the Beauxbatons carriages if we're going to get out of this place without setting off the wards. So they don't notice one's missing-"

"I'll use an illusion. Parvati showed me this summer," he explained as they approached the carriages, finding the horsepower in a pen nearby. "She seems to think I need less violent ways of solving my problems."

"Must be nice having a useful girlfriend," Ron muttered as he waved his wand over the horses, trying to detect any sort of warding. _I'd have put them under greater security._

"Hermione's not useful?" A cream colored horse with wings began to materialize.

"I don't have a girlfriend." Managing to break the alarm enchantment, he jumped the fence rather than unlocking the gate. As he touched the illusion, he found it felt like a warm light, though his hand passed through it.

"It seems like you've your pick," Dean said as he followed the other Gryffindor into the pen. _"_ I'm not one to pry, though."

The pair of them boarded a large horse, finding it difficult to get it to move.

"Didn't their Headmistress say something about whiskey?"

"I believe so," the darker wizard said, hopping off and looking around the pen. "Most domesticated animals can be bribed into compliance. _Accio whiskey._ " There was no sound, and apparently the bottle was disillusioned or something, but Dean managed to catch it as it flew to his hand, Ron waving away the charm with a _finite._ The flying horses were more or less compliant, though directing them was a different matter entirely.

"These things are supposed to be wicked fast," Ron explained. "Trouble is, there's no way of concealing them; 's why they're a Secrecy violation."

"It'll be dark soon," Dean decided. "There should really be an unwritten exception to the Statute, as well as the restriction on underage magic."

"What's that?"

"If they don't catch you in six months, you get away with it."

The tall, redheaded wizard cocked his head one way, then the other.

"Suppose it really isn't a problem if no one knows about it," he decided. "Reckon the only reason they still punish it is just to make an example of you. Can't have people doing the same thing, thinking they'll get away with it too when it was just a fluke the first time."

The winged horse set to flight, going as close to due south given the setting sun.

"Easy for you to say, living in a wizarding community. I grew up without a clue I could do magic." _Right, he's the opposite of Seamus. Dad was a wizard, mum's a muggle. Don't know why she didn't tell him, unless he might've turned out a squib. S'pose that could happen to anyone._

"Doesn't mean it's not true. If your mother'd let you, I'm sure Neville'd be happy to have you over a time or two. Doesn't have many Gryffindor friends."

Nothing was said further on the back of the winged horse as it made its way to London above the clouds, or at least nothing he remembered as he stared into the drain, the time having escaped him. Ron surfaced from the shower.

"Get anywhere?" he called out.

"There's a long way to go," Dean answered, walking toward the apartment's washroom, perhaps for audibility. "I've learned a fair bit, though. Get out. I'm not talking to you from the other side of a door."

"Fine." Ron threw on a bathrobe and surfaced, waving a house-keeping spell over his school robes. It worked well enough on upholstery, so theoretically there was no reason to believe they would catch fire. He doubted Dean would care if he came out naked, but it wouldn't work with their guest around.

"Down there, we were looking for the Department Head. We failed to find him or her." The red-haired wizard only nodded in response. Their disguises had been more of his confederate's illusions, though they would do little for them if the people they were impersonating appeared. After a quick coin toss, it was determined Ron would be disguised as Thicknesse, as before, and Dean would be disguised as Ebony. He was none too pleased with playing the bird, but Ron argued it made sense with the height difference.

"Do we know?"

"It's a man named Haider Lawson, but that doesn't matter. They call him Ether. The Minister thinks he's picking the new Department Head, but the real one will just polyjuice himself as the new one, appear in public for his appointment, and go back to business as usual. He'll eventually die, then there will be a new Ether."

_The Department of Mysteries picks its own head, and no one notices. Color me surprised._

"What about the rest of the Ministry? Why are they always going along with the Department?"

"They have a small, powerful, unnamed, political faction upstairs. Previously, Umbridge was its head, and the werewolf killing her was the only minor setback they've had in years. They use it to influence policy and intimidate people, but neither they nor the Death Eaters are at the point where they can just pass laws without anyone else's permission."

"Why would a regular Ministry employee want anything to do with them?" Ron asked. "My dad doesn't do things anonymously, everyone knows who he is. If he wanted to carry out some kind of plan for the Unspeakables, he'd have to answer for it."

"There's a lot of reasons. The Department Head will usually only ask the non-anonymous members of government to do things that do not risk their lives or careers. Though they have to go about in public, the Unspeakables are required to protect them, and if you have someone who can kill your enemies anonymously, it's almost as good as being anonymous yourself." _Prob'ly they only resort to killing someone if worse comes to worse. Department can't afford to draw attention to itself._ "There's something else to consider."

"What?"

"Some of them really believe in it. They're perfectly willing to put their faces and names out there, even though they know they'll be held accountable."

"Yeah and I reckon some of them are just stupid," Ron muttered angrily. _There aren't supposed to be any bloody heroes on the other side._ He noticed the bed had been made, and decided Dean had done it, since he never would have. The pair of them had reached London late at night, and needed to find some place to sleep, the better to get to work the following morning. There was food in the 'frigid' and a good old fire charm might have heated it up, but they would have received a citation for using magic. He shook his head. They had been lucky enough to get the apartment.

While Dean took the horse back into the sky, Ron had found himself alone on a roof, looking for a place to hide the beast, with the caveat that it would be better not to use magic. Assuming that meant 'don't cast spells', since he had never heard of anyone setting off the trace with a ward, he cut the lock on the roof access door with a concentrated burst of sparks from his wand, the formless, nameless magic that effused from even the least capable first-year. Following the trip down memory lane, he took one down the stairs, looking for someone alone. Catching sight of the prisoner they had been interrogating, he silently took to the metal railing, jumping off and putting his full weight on her, slamming the target's head into the metal tread of the stone stair moments after his feet hit her shoulders. Taking her wand and apartment keys, he pocketed them and dragged her into the hallway. He remembered wishing he had some way of telling his confederate where to bring the horse, but there was nothing for it. He was going to have to shoot up sparks again and pretend like it was some sort of muggle firecracker if anyone asked.

The target had appeared to be knocked out, which was what he had intended, but leaving it to chance was a bad idea. He found some wrist chain devices in the end table by the bed and sighed to himself.

When the pair of them met up again, his confederate decided it was best to take the horse straight down to the top of the building, perhaps because it would spend the least time visible that way, then lead it into the building the same way Ron came in, congratulating him on the way. It was an odd thing to hear out of the boy, but it was welcome, even if it sounded fake. Once in the apartment, they let the horse rest wherever it would.

"We're going to have to feed the bloody beast," Ron said.

"We're going to have to feed it eventually," Dean specified.

"I like the sound of that."

Infiltrating the Ministry the following day had been difficult, but they managed it. Getting to Diagon Alley was something he normally did by floo, but his partner was all too familiar with the muggle entrance. Once inside the strictly magical area, there was little chance of setting off the trace by waving wands in the street, so the pair of them ducked into a dark alley before Dean used the stolen wand for their alternate identities. Ron's entrance to the Department would save them considerable time if it had not at any point been blocked, but it required them to go back out into muggle London, where they would likely be seen as their disguises. Eventually they decided it was worth the risk.

"It'll only get out when we're already gone," Ron had explained at length. "Might not even make the _Prophet,_ seeing as the editor's in the Minister's pocket. 'sides, it'd be even worse to disguise ourselves too late."

Despite the amount of work and ingenuity they had invested in the plan, it appeared the Death Eaters were nowhere to be found in what could only have been the brain room, what with the brains. Vexingly, it was increasingly likely that they had gone so far and risked as much on false intel fed to Creevey, whether deliberately false or simply out of date. At the end of the day, the best way he could possibly put it was that they had managed to sow some distrust among the Department employees, primarily because Dean had no idea how to act the part. Ron's performance was not significantly better, but he decided to hope no one noticed next to 'Ebony'.

Presently, his confederate was staring at something, and he realized his warding was visible through the bath robe he was wearing. _Best not to show it to the enemy._

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"It's a bit of warding," he whispered back. "Shallow wounds I can heal if need be."

"You know how to write wards?"

"Hermione does."

"-and you said you needed a useful girlfriend."

"Don't go spreading shit around when you don't know what-"

"I'm not one to gossip. Anything left to do before we go?"

"It'd be better to wipe her memory. I can't imagine it going well if someone finds her like this."

Dean took a long look. For a moment Ron wondered what it was he wanted to ask, explain, or deride, but it seemed nothing of the sort was terribly pertinent.

"I don't know how to perform a memory charm," he explained at length. "I knew it would come down to this. I knew I would have to convince you to do what needs to be done." He shook his head. "And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would probably just have to kill Ebony myself."

Ron pursed his lips, thinking a moment.

"I've got an idea. Well, it's not entirely my idea, but I've got it."


	11. Teaching the Test

Hermione had found Hannah listening in on a conversation at the Hufflepuff table.

"I thought you did not normally sit here."

"You would be correct, yet I find I need information."

The Ravenclaw sat next to her, taking in the discussion around her. Cedric, strangely enough, was not speaking, despite most of the conversation being about him.

"They've been telling him a million different things about what the first task is."

"Have there been that many rumors going around?"

"I have no idea. It could also be that they're trying to prepare him for everything except what it actually is. I mean, they tell the Slytherin first-years to stay away from the dungeons because there was a troll in there at one point. It could also be that they need to keep making up intelligence to convince everyone else they're valuable members of the House." _You must hate being in Hufflepuff._

"So we're supporting Cedric?"

"The Slytherins are supporting Evan, of course. I can't imagine who these wankers are supporting." Hermione kept her eyes from widening at the use of the expression. "I imagine they would support Crouch, though."

"I've heard about him. He had a kill-on-sight policy in the late seventies. I don't remember reading how they differentiated between undercover Death Eaters and proper ones." If her intent had been testing Hannah on her recent history, she might have failed, because the blonde witch said nothing.

"Come on," she decided at length. "Neville and Susan both want to support Cedric, but neither of them know how not to get caught."

"We're finding out what the task actually is?" the bushy-haired witch assumed.

"I suppose that would be easier than setting Evan on fire. He's probably swarmed with Durmstrang students and Slytherins."

It was Hermione's turn to say nothing, since she had observed no terribly large amount of support from regular students for Evan, even though they currently went to the same school. It sounded a little ridiculous to imagine they would support him, especially when she considered her own school, and given that he had only arrived the previous year and had the gall to call himself 'Slytherin', only on the basis that he was distantly related and apparently selected as the Heir. Since the reforms made during the last war, the titles of nobility were formalized as names, meaning the boy could quite literally get away with writing 'Lord Slytherin' on any given legal document.

"Speaking of Slytherins, I met an interesting one yesterday," Hannah offered. "There's a girl named Mafalda you might want to meet. She seems to be looking for protection, but unlike Creevey, she might actually be telling the truth."

"How do you know?"

"It's just a feeling. I took some measures to ensure we weren't being followed. Either she was really in trouble, or they sent her in there alone. If it really is the latter, then I just have no idea how to respond."

It was not every day the Hufflepuff witch had no idea how to respond to any given thing. _I have to help her._

"Have you asked Neville if he knows about her? I would think that if Draco has been using her, he would be aware of it." The Ravenclaw was coming to better understand the advantage their 'inside man' presented, if not his reasons for putting himself in such danger. In some ways she reminded him of the ideals to which a journalist was supposed to adhere. He had his own sort of courage, going into the proverbial lion's den without anyone to back him up, and as far as she was aware, he had not betrayed any of their secrets to the Slytherins, though she would hardly mind if he betrayed a few of theirs. His sense of fairness was definitely vexing.

"That he hasn't heard does not mean Malfoy has nothing to do with it. They were never attached at the hip." It appeared breakfast was ending, meaning they would have to go to their different classes. "Speaking of, whatever happened with Ms. Jones?"

"Your guess is probably better than mine," Hermione answered as she went off to Potions.

"I haven't found Ron, by the way, nor have I found any way of warding out dark creatures," Hannah called after her, turning away to indicate she did not expect a response.

_I suppose I've been expecting a lot of her. Well, the bit about finding Ron was her idea._

The students were required to brew a Swelling Solution, the inverse of a Shrinking Solution. As if to spite her sense of logic, the instructions were mostly the same, but backward in some bizarre way. The cauldron would have to be stirred the other direction, ingredients added to the brew would arrive in the opposite order, and as opposed to taking ten minutes and five seconds, the required time on the exam would be five minutes and ten seconds.

"What book are we using, sir?" Seamus asked from across the room.

"Oh, you'll find in academic circles it's a quite well-respected resource written by an old colleague of mine." Professor Slughorn answered. "I believe the name, _One Thousand Wonders of Proper Brews and Blunders_ is a deliberate homage to-"

"Sorry I'm late."

Everyone turned to look at Ron as he sheepishly entered.

"Oh, no, dear boy, you haven't missed a thing... Weatherby? Oh, no, that's just what my good friend Barty keeps calling you."

"If it helps, I've a note from Professor-"

"By all means, by all means, best to just pick up where you left off." _Two days ago, yes._

At the encouragement of the instructor, he took a seat next to her and set about reading the instructions, but the bushy-haired witch had little enough time as it was. Reaching over, she performed all of the steps she had for her own potion thus far, stopping only to keep hers from bubbling over.

"Thanks, Hermione, you're a lifesaver," he whispered. "I mean, I might have figured it out-"

"But you aren't familiar with the most recent material. I'm aware," she responded, mostly through her teeth. "Can you explain this?" She dug an article out of her bag and tossed it on his desk.

"Never seen this before in my life," he answered, looking at the copy of the morning's _Prophet._

"You weren't in school, Ron. You wouldn't have been gone for two days straight-"

"Don't say it here."

When at last the class was over and she had held her tongue long enough, Hermione turned to her friend to ask where he had been, and where he had so desperately needed to go that he would tell no one. _But it would do me no good to ask him, not here. If he wants it to remain secret, I have to wait._

_I can't just act out because I'm upset._

Maintaining her usual standard of excellence in her remaining classes posed more of a challenge than usual, since even when she got past her resentment toward Ron for running off like that, she was still incredibly curious about what exactly had happened. She managed to get through Transfiguration without staring off into space, or not to a degree that Professor McGonagall noticed.

On her way to supper, she caught sight of Ron at the end of a corridor. _What's he doing there? Is it one of his classes?_ From around the corner of an intersecting corridor, a shorter blonde witch collided with him, throwing her arms around him. _That might be Hannah. I suppose she would be relieved to have finally found him._

Supper was quick, as she informed Terry of the development.

"So he's the one who caused the disturbance in London."

"He violated the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Magic, yes. Apparently he stole Ebony's wand and used it to put a dark mark on the wall, then set something in the apartment on fire while she was restrained and unconscious. The Trace went off, and the Hit Wizards were there in minutes to put out the fire and erase the mark."

"I didn't know Ron could cast one. Did Ebony survive?" Terry asked.

"He might have had help, though he hasn't said who." _Well, Dean has been missing._ "Yes, but her memory was erased. It's a muggle apartment and she lacked a wand, so the Hit Wizards who found her wiped her memory of the last week."

"Seems like a bit of a long time. Did they find any fingerprints on the wand?"

"It was hardly in a state that could be identified as a wand. Technically, it's really only my speculation that it was her wand, but the article said nothing about hers being found in the apartment, nor anything that could identify her as a witch. They managed to use the prior enchantments trick to see that it had been used for the dark mark and the fire, though the fact that it had been cast into the blaze would have suggested it if nothing else," Hermione explained. "As for taking an entire week off her memory, I highly suspect that when a dark mark and a fire was reported, a Death Eater plant in the Hit Wizards decided it was his turn to cover for his friends."

"That's worrying. It still sounds like Ron and whoever helped him got incredibly lucky."

The pair of them went to the mysterious room, trusting their friends to find them as always. The other Ravenclaw drew a few props out of his schoolbag, namely a flat drum and a feathered drumstick.

"You told me a bit about Professor Dumbledore's old colleague," the witch prompted.

"Yes, she was a respected _machi._ There was only so much she could teach me in the one summer, especially with regards to communicating with the spirit world." _That sounds like something that would take a while to learn._ "Fortunately I was able to compile a rather extensive resource on sacred stones and animals," he explained, opening a handwritten book. They've been in oral tradition for centuries, so really this is nothing new..."

"Terry, that's original research," Hermione obviated, eyes wide. "This could actually go in the Hogwarts library."

"Oh, I don't know if the quality is quite up to the standard..." he excused as his classmate took the book and perused the orderly tables and paragraphs in which the book was presented. Wizarding photographs of sacred animals seemed to be on every page; she saw a strange bird the caption identified as a 'green-backed firecrown'.

"I think you should send your work to a publisher," she offered, in evident disagreement. _He's always been a bit modest, but this is almost like Neville._

The door opened and Hannah entered first, followed by Ron. _It took them a while to get here..._ Mafalda followed them. _I suppose that explains it._

"Secret's out, then?" Terry asked.

"Terry, Neville confirmed that Malfoy has no idea she's even alive," the Hufflepuff witch objected. "She only has magical family on her mother's side."

"At least half of Slyth-"

"Mate, I thought I'd be the last to be saying this, but this one's clear," the Gryffindor argued. "I found Creevey as soon as I got back and beat it out of him."

"Perfect. I can't think of any way that could have negative-" the dark-haired wizard started, sighing. "How are you not expelled?"

"Flitwick gave Snape a copy of the _Prophet_ this morning," he said as though that explained everything. "The article said somewhere that the Department's out of staff for Inspections. I thought I was done for when he caught me giving that little shit the business- when he asked if I'd beaten Ebony to a pulp, destroyed her wand, erased her memory and set her apartment on fire I just stared at him a minute and figured I didn't have anything to lose by admitting to it."

"Then what happened?" Hermione demanded.

"He gave me a permission statement he'd already written and three points to Gryffindor. He took two for beating Creevey." Nothing was said for a moment. "I guess he didn't want to spoil it. That's prob'ly the most points he's ever given us, though I'll ask my brothers."

"I imagine your brothers have lost you more points than anyone else combined," Hannah ventured. "Anyway, now that we're done fighting each other, we should probably introduce our guest," she said, gesturing at the Slytherin girl. "This is Mafalda. She's a first-year and would like to talk about what happened to her." _Oh. So in order for her to have the confidence to divulge her secrets, we had show good faith by inviting her to the room._

Everyone's eyes were on the younger witch, who was looking uncomfortable. She tugged on the yellow trim of the Hufflepuff's robes and whispered in her ear as she knelt down.

"Excuse me. We'll only be a moment."

The pair of them went upstairs and Ron took a seat opposite Terry, looking over the book, perhaps out of interest at having found the first book at Hogwarts with real pictures.

"What are they discussing?" Terry asked. "I don't mean to pry, but, was the entire point-"

"Think about it," the red-haired wizard suggested darkly. "She gets a bit nervous and wants to talk quietly with another witch." He hung his head.

Hermione, by contrast, just stared off into space, not wanting to meet anyone else's eyes any more than he. _Hannah might know a little bit about why Mafalda is seeking help, but she would not come to us unless she were truly desperate. Well, the Hufflepuffs might just do worse to her for being a Slytherin, but she had to have some reason she could not just ask a Prefect of her own House. This kind of thing is part of the reason they always have a boy and a girl._

The three of them waited in silence for a moment until the Gryffindor had a question about the book.

"So what kind of combat applications..."

"Entering the spirit world would do me a few favors, but that remains outside my capabilities. Significant further study would be required, and in the midst of the Tournament-"

"We're bothering with that?" Ron asked.

"We're helping Cedric," Hannah explained as she came down the stairs. "The school needs to see that the conspiracy doesn't represent all of us, and it definitely doesn't represent the best of us. We can't let Evan win, because he's separated from the Death Eaters in Durmstrang, and if he has the gold it's another resource on his side when we go after him. It wouldn't be bad if Fleur won, but it would be better for Cedric to win. We'll be passing her the information we gave him if he dies." _That's a bit morbid._

"What else can you do?" the Ravenclaw witch asked Terry, hoping to redirect the conversation.

"Thank you, Hermione. I have a rather extensive knowledge of sacred stones, and quite a few of them with me." He poured out a bag of, what she presumed to be, sacred stones as Mafalda reentered, looking a bit better, if at all possible. _I have an idea, but I really can't imagine what they did to her._ "They don't look like much, which is good, in a way, since no one else will recognize them. The reason we call them sacred stones is because they have a connection with the spirit world."

"How?" Ron asked, apparently having some trouble wrapping his mind around it.

"This is a spirit stone taken from the body of a _kalku,_ something of a dark wizard in our money." he explained, picking up a stone with a somewhat orange hue. "Dissatisfied with the rigor and rules of the practices of the _machi_ , they turn their powers to sinister and selfish pursuits. At some point this particular _kalku_ managed to summon a _huecufe,_ or evil spirit, known as a _Nguruvilu_ , and captured it using this stone, permanently linking the spirit world to ours. Both the _machi_ and the _kalku_ jealously guard the secrets of summoning and trapping, as it is believed a sufficient, yet unknown number of links between the spirit world and our own would cause the two to effectively merge. Perhaps consequently, the delegates from South America were among the first to support the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"Is there any way you could put Peeves in that thing?" Hannah asked. "He's really annoying sometimes, so he's got to qualify as an evil spirit."

"I wish I knew. There's so little I understand about their _use_ it might take me a lifetime to figure it out." _Well, what are the rest of us meant to do about that?_

"What are you teaching us, then?" the Gryffindor asked. "I mean, that's what this was supposed-"

"This is merely an introduction," Terry responded, his voice low and level. "What I've been doing is learning magic that's completely out of my wheelhouse, gaining an entirely new perspective. The more we learn about what other people are doing with magic, the sooner we can start to answer the most essential questions. Are there different types of magic? Why can only some people perform it? _What is magic?_ "

"Terry, bigger brains than ours've been trying to crack those for centuries- millennia, maybe!" Ron argued. "It's all well and good for the academics of it, but how is this helping us fight a war on two fronts?"

"We're at a crossroads," the Ravenclaw started back. "We're at a crossroads and we can go one of two ways. We're at a massive numbers disadvantage, and we can't accumulate any more wands, not by any appreciable measure. Down the other way, we figure out what we can do with what we have. We can't win with anything else, Ron. Our only advantage, our one, infinitesimal advantage, is that they don't know what we're doing, because Hannah found this place by accident, and because we don't have a mole in our operation. We're too small and weak for the larger parties to take any notice." He took a breath. "-and that's why, more crucially than anything else, we must develop some sort of magical secret weapon. If we don't we're dead."


	12. Bending Rules

After the meeting was essentially over, the pair of Ravenclaws leaving to maintain appearances, Hannah suggested that Mafalda go upstairs to set a bath for herself, since she was probably accustomed to going to bed earlier. They heard the water running above them and decided it was safe to talk.

"I still think that we need decisive action," Ron muttered. "I mean, say they send a Death Eater to every country in the world. If we don't nip this in the bud, there won't be any secrets hidden from them."

"I imagine most people would resist giving up their knowledge," the Hufflepuff witch responded, taking a seat on the couch next to him. "If some massive force of dark wizards were spreading all over the world, in their place I would act like there was nothing not already recorded in libraries."

"I mean, that might deter some of them, but we just went over how there are _dark_ wizards all over the world as well. What'd he call them? _kalku_? Doesn't matter. The Death Eaters'll be best mates with them." He sighed. "I mean, I wouldn't have anything against having a plan or having something good up our sleeves, but it's like he's opposed to taking decisive action."

Hannah lowered her head.

"I can think of why that might be."

"What?"

"Ron, I was really worried when you went missing."

"I mean, I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't let Dean go alone and he wasn't about to let the trail go cold waiting for me to get help-" She scooted over as he spoke, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"No. I mean, whether the rest of us could be there or not... it's the thought of you being in danger." _That sounds stupid. I can't believe I'm saying this._ "Are you alright? You weren't hurt or anything?"

"I'm not Mafalda," he muttered. "What happened to her?"

"Well, let's say some of Malfoy's people decided they were owed something. They were second-years, so they were probably only self-appointed members of his protection racket, but she wouldn't have known that."

"How bad was it?"

"It was... she has marks from the severing charm. She was afraid to ask anyone to repair her uniform after... it happened. She says she blacked most of it out."

"If she still has the marks, we could get Malfoy-"

"Stop." He seemed unwilling to let it go, about to rise from the couch, but she held him lightly. "All that will happen is she'll just break down and say she doesn't remember who did it. I've run through it about a million times. The best that could happen is that whatever teacher who hears us out will believe us, and the worst is that we could be blamed for doing it all ourselves. The Hufflepuff conspiracy has already tried that sort of thing, they beat up one of their own with blasting hexes, blamed it on Umbridge when they thought she was a Death Eater plant, then quietly forgot all about it when the Death Eaters denounced her after her death." _Most people probably missed it, but there was a piece in the_ Prophet _where an anonymous, masked blood purist told the journalist that she was just another example of Ministry overreach making things worse for the children._

Ron was silent for a moment.

"I mean, I wouldn't want the same thing to happen to anyone else," he said at length. _He's talking about Ginny. I'm sure he's talking about-_ "She's eleven. It's just way too young to even be introduced to that sort of thing."

"I don't know. I think you could tell them about how it works. She's older than I was when I learned."

"No, not about that..." he started, not seeming to know where to go with it. "They shouldn't be aware that people do that kind of thing to each other... not that it helps, apparently."

"Well, doesn't it follow?" Hannah asked. "If people do that, then... sometimes they're not all going to be in agreement."

"I mean it makes sense, but that doesn't mean you'd ever make the connection. I mean, if you didn't know about how babies showed up, what did you think dads were for?" _I can't remember. I didn't have one._ "I mean, I don't know about you, but I literally just didn't think about it. There didn't have to be a reason for my dad being around."

"Did you like his being around?"

"Yeah. I mean, generally. There were times, like when I got straightened out for something..." he trailed off. _He probably noticed my expression._ The witch was aware her face was downcast. "Did your dad not come home often or something?"

"My mother lost him when she was pregnant with me."

Nothing was said as they heard the water stop upstairs, not reacting to it at all.

"I guess that's how you figured out dads have to be around before you're born, but not after."

"I didn't see it as clearly as that," Hannah said, offering a sad smile. "I remember some girls at school told me that dads were for buying things. I asked my mother if I could get a new dad somewhere so we could got to the department stores in London."

"Must've been embarrassing."

"She didn't go on about it. She likes to embarrass me, but I think this one was too sad for her to bring up around her friends. None of them knew him, or why he was no longer around- that was where I learned the word 'deadbeat'." _Why am I telling him all this..._ "Did you ever have something like that happen?"

"Yeah. One time Fred and George told me babies were originally garden gnomes. Is that when you learned about..."

"Well, that evening we went home and she told me. She decided it was better I learn from her than anyone else. Moments like that... it's silly, but it makes me wonder if she was preparing me for how things are now. I feel like everything's happening so quickly and there's just nothing we can do about it but try to get ahead of it. Every day I wonder if my only friends in the world might die tomorrow and I don't know whether I should focus on preventing it or if I should figure out what I do... after." _I still have no idea. I have no idea in the world._

She felt his arms go around her. Their lips met momentarily.

"Are you alright- that was a bit sudden-" he started.

"It's fine," she breathed. They were leaning so far he was nearly on her. "I'm not with anyone."

"Neither am I."

They were at it again, and she could not have said time was passing. _Why are we doing this? How did things lead to this... what do I feel about him? What does he feel about me?_ The thought crossed her mind that he could simply be using her, but she batted it away, deciding it would be unlike him. _What is he like? Does he treat girls well?_ As his hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, another thought came like a bolt of lightening; opening her eyes was the idea that they might go further. She put a hand on his chest, feeling his weight, feeling the latent strength within him.

"We shouldn't..." she started, unable to finish the sentence, or the thought for that matter. An absurd chuckle escaped. "My wards might activate."

"Right," he muttered, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. They were only just starting ancient runes, so it was fair that Hermione and Terry would understand it better than either of them. In truth, Hannah had no idea what the wards on her body would do, they were more advanced than the ones her Ravenclaw friend had drawn last year, which had apparently shielded her from physical damage, though that was only what she had seen.

"Should we tell anyone?"

"I don't know. I don't really know what to tell them. I reckon Terry might jump over the moon if I told him I wasn't after Hermione."

Hannah laughed. Her eyes closed and a single tear rolled down her cheek. _I haven't felt like this in ages._

"You've seen it, too, then? I thought you were just oblivious to that kind of thing."

"I figure people who don't like tracking dragons prob'ly can't recognize dragon tracks, or if they can, they couldn't tell 'em apart," he said at length, staring off into space. "Terry's just been really obvious about it, now that I look at it."

"It was obvious to me for the second half of last year," the Hufflepuff witch boasted. "I mean, though, this is great. They won't have to feel left out. When all this is over, we can go on double dates and other people will laugh at us, but it'll be fine because we won't care..." she trailed off, seeing Ron's countenance fall.

"I wasn't really thinking about the good endings, Hannah," he muttered, revealing more than was explicit. _Right. We could all die._

Perhaps after learning about her father, her own mortality was something that never escaped her, especially after they lost Neville. Death was simply something that was always chasing her, and one day it would catch up, whether she was ready for it or no. From that perspective, the Gryffindor next to her acting on a sudden feeling seemed to make more sense.

"Um..." _What do I say? How do I say it?_ "So you know, I mean, I don't know how people do things in pureblood culture, but I... well, I'm not really comfortable with going all that far right away."

"That's fine," Ron responded, turning to look at her. "I'd feel worse if I never said or did anything than if I did something and it never went anywhere."

"Okay." _I was worried you might be upset._ "So you don't mind that I'm a werewolf?"

"I forget sometimes. I'm not afraid of you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she asked, getting up to take a shower. There was no response.

Letting the water run over her, she thought of how soon it would be she would again have to chain herself up, not allowing herself to hope in a chance of being free of the curse. When at last she surfaced, remembering the wizard usually showered at night, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. The wards cut into her pale skin were as clear as ever, thanks to an odd preservation element on the third concentric circle. She looked away, not wanting to physically evaluate herself as she waved a drying charm over herself. There were towels in the washroom, but she had only instinctively grabbed them the first few times she had slept in the mysterious room.

The question of the place where she was sleeping would not leave her alone at night, even the way she seemingly found it. Hannah remembered having hoped for a quiet place with magical protections, which was what she told her friends, though that had to be some kind of coincidence.

_Of course, the simplest way of proving it would be to hope for some other kind of place._

That night she dreamed of ending up in Japan or some place, avoiding the vicious _oni_ and their steel-studded rectangular clubs.

The following morning she woke later than the others as usual, finding the room empty as she dressed, got ready, and walked out. _Well, I suppose there's no better time. I wish for a place where I could see the other schools planning what to do for the First Task._ Hesitantly opening the door, she found a balcony, what looked to be outside, though the view below was split by a courtyard wall.

 _This is impossible. What I'm seeing is impossible._ On one side of the wall, the Durmstrang Headmaster and a few of the students were talking, in English, about Evan. _If he's not there-_ On the other side of the wall, the Beauxbaton's Headmistress was explaining to Fleur that the first task would involve dragons. _So she knows more than the others- no idea why, but more to the point- why is Evan not there? No, I have to focus. I have to listen._

" _Dragons?_ _C'est illégal._ "

" _C'est la vie. Assumuiez_ _que tu devras le tuer."_ Hannah exhaled through her nose. _That's a measure harder for me to parse, Madam Headmistress._

" _Comment puis-je?_ _Quelle race de dragon?"_

 _"Ce n'est pas important. Si vous avez besoin d'aide faites le moi savoir."_ The pair of them parted, though the others were still talking, if only for the moment.

"Evan knows what his task is. My question is whether you know yours or not," one student asked the other as Karkaroff disappeared. _Maybe they're trying to practice. It sounds like they're talking about cheating. I suppose I shouldn't put it past friends of his._

Leaving quickly, she decided she had to catch Cedric in the corridors while she still had a chance. He was in different classes, and she had no idea of his schedule, but Hermione had observed that Hogwarts was not so big a school that you could not expect to see most everyone you knew at least once every other day, if not every day. Hannah, however, was finding herself unfortunate. The Hufflepuffs she saw were of the less helpful variety.

Going to class, she kept her head about her as she took notes and completed the History of Magic assignment she had expected to do last night, in absence of... complications. _It's all right. We can work it out. I need to focus._

Taking notes at the same time as she wrote an essay rarely went well, so she resolved to get some from Susan. _She'd be happy to let me see hers if I told her about last night... but then the whole school would know. I should really ask Neville. He's yet to reveal any serious secret of Malfoy's, so I should be safe... even if I did tell him... and I won't, because it's none of his business._

 _The transition from monarchy to more democratic systems did not happen the same way across the entire world._ Hearing a sound from behind her, she whipped her head around, but turned back immediately. Whatever it was, she could hardly let people know she could hear better than average. _I must disagree with the author's presumption that the unification of the world into consistent systems after the establishment of Secrecy principally because the world does not only consist of London, Paris, Washington, Berlin, Prague, Cairo, and Tokyo. The governments and systems that magical people across the world have formed are unique, frequently incompatible with each other, as should be expected from a vast world with its myriad peoples._

She had an idea she would lose points on the essay if it were being graded on being politically correct, but that was the advantage of having a ghost as a teacher. He appeared to grade the students the same way he had graded their parents, and in some cases grandparents. It served as an interesting time capsule, especially when new history books were written with 'improved' history. Citing them as sources for essays usually resulted in a 'P' when they contradicted earlier works, which were most of what Professor Binns had read. _It's annoying, but if he hadn't been giving us poor notes, Hogwarts students and their parents would probably never realize the history they were reading was getting gradually changed on them._

It was something that annoyed Hermione even more than it annoyed her, but that was probably because the Ravenclaw seemed to have a firm belief in truth and knowledge, which was applicable, she supposed. It seemed no different from what Ron expected to happen, though he never lost sleep over books, not seeing them as inherently more reliable than the _Prophet_ , which seemed something other than a high bar. The conspirators, by contrast, insisted that the history had either never been modified, or if it had, it was only undoing the damage caused by centuries of blood purist propaganda, meaning they either believed the new history or were at least willing to use it as a weapon against the enemy and their aims in influencing public consciousness. Hannah had absolutely no idea who even wrote the books, though she doubted the Department of Mysteries was doing it without aid. More likely, there was a Ministry office upstairs and the faction had members in it, or the books were written by another 'private' business like the _Daily Prophet._

In Ancient Runes, it seemed Ron was trying to catch her eyes a couple times, though the reason for that could be anything, she reminded herself. She ended up scratching out a few things about the first task, from what little she could understand, and levitating the parchment to him. _Passing notes to a boy- my mother would freak._

As she left the class, the Hufflepuff witch wondered what her mother would actually say if she told her about Ron, and what had happened the previous night. A few years ago, she would talk to her about virtually any other subject, though between being a werewolf, fighting some sort of secret war, and learning magic, the idea of telling her mother about being kissed did not sound so bad.

_All the same, it can wait until I get home._


	13. Tasks and Taskmasters

Draco was seated with his vassals for the first task, though Evan's assistance would have to work from the shadows. _It almost seems unfair, that the Heir of Slytherin must fend for himself in this time. All the same, I myself have proved resourceful in absence of aid from my father and I expect much the same from any acquaintance of mine._

It had been a number of days since he had learned the nature of the first task from his connections at the Ministry, though the Durmstrang students through whom he had attempted to communicate with the elusive champion had proved less than willing to accept aid. It was reasonable, of course, since they might have thought he was trying to sabotage them, though he had given no sign of that. _They must realize that Hogwarts is a battleground, not a unified front. Perhaps there are wiser and thicker students._

The dragons roared onto the scene as expected, proud beasts, confined by magical chains though they were. Each one was born with a noble spirit, desirous of freedom from the sport and hunt of the powerful, but unable to attain it, defeated by the might of magic and bent to the will of the realms of wizards. Even unbound, they were in a cage, an expanse of wilderness they could explore, daring to go no further lest they be seen. Powerful, stout of heart, and too brave for their own good, they were captured and repurposed, like the half-blind beast under Gringotts, forced to serve the indisputably lesser creatures known as goblins, skilled in craft and great in number though they were.

Beauxbatons had drawn the short wand, as it were, and their champion would be competing first. _Of course, the others are meant to be in a secure location, but their minds are yet available to those skilled enough._ He had learned over the summer from his father that a basic form of Legilimency, requiring the reader to be near the read, was within the reach of most young wizards. Only surface thoughts were readily available, but it was quite sufficient for his purposes. All that had been required was that he sit as close to the tent of champions as possible.

Evan appeared to be keeping his distance from the other champion, thinking him unworthy as the other, an unknown name competing for eternal glory. _Cordially, we meet again, Evan, Heir of Slytherin._ The boy's danger warnings were all over the place, but he calmed to the familiar mental voice.

_I see you have become skilled in the mind arts. The Dark Lord thinks such practice unworthy of my time, as he thinks his own Death Eaters less than my equals._ The idea gave Draco pause.

_I find this most curious. He seems to think Legilimency is a worthy pursuit when he practices it. Perhaps there are things the Lord Voldemort withholds from you. Pay it no mind, I am all but certain he does this for your own protection._

Nothing was said for a moment.

_What of the French champion? I regret that I must stare at the inside of a tent while matters of slightly greater interest unfold._

_She has found herself unable to kill the beast, but she has time remaining. I expect she will retrieve the prize without harming it._

_Imagine my shock, a witch lacking the stomach for blood._

The Malfoy heir breathed out of his nose almost silently, deciding he could be better at concealing his amusement. He was especially vulnerable after establishing a mental link. Thinking about it as the stentorian voice announced the success of the Beauxbaton's champion, he supposed his old friend might mean violence, rather than blood itself.

_It appears she has removed the magical protections around the target, then summoned it. I am sure it will be made impossible to summon by the next round._

_I would never repeat the strategy of any opponent, however effective they may be. Much grander designs are more suited to the Heir of Slytherin._

Draco's face straightened. For all his pride in his own family and lineage, he had been reminded time and time again never to let it swell his head. It was quite possible Evan had an even nobler heritage, and had shown himself to be capable of great magic, but it seemed the tutelage of the Dark Lord had made him too proud for his own good- most importantly, in revealing that he had been in contact with the darkest wizard of the age as if it were nothing of import. He resolved to write his father after the First Task, though anything that secret would be best kept out of a letter. Hogwarts was being monitored as never before.

The Hufflepuff wizard took his turn after the useless fanfare for the first champion had died down.

_What has the great Lord Voldemort shown you, that you are certain you will defeat the dragon? I remind you that it would hardly require the discretion of our noble Founder to refrain from using a killing curse here._

_There are greater works of dark magic, Draco. I came to Hogwarts with more knowledge of the darkness than seventh-years have taken with them. I am not proud, son of Malfoy, I know what is above and beneath me. Having confirmed you are not able to read anything other than my surface thoughts, I applaud your wisdom and exhort that you curtail your curiosity into the horrors that lurk in my mind; when I so deign, I shall reveal them._

The Hogwarts champion had attempted to conjure a dog, the better to detract attention from himself, but the dragon saw through the trick. He actually managed to provide some level of excitement as he created an advanced shield, repelling the fire and sprinting under the beast to manually retrieve the target, a bizarre golden egg the dragon had likely been confunded to mistake for its own. The crowd was perhaps too generous with applause, and a suspicion developed in his mind that Weasley or one of his friends had had something to do with the champion's success. _It would be like them to supply him with information, more so than his own House mates._ Having severed the mental connection, he considered reaching out to one of his associates to see if they remembered if Diggory was in line with the conspirators, but he had serious doubts already. _Crabbe and Goyle would hardly remember if they knew- and I would prefer to keep my Legilimency from my vassals for as long as circumstances dictate._

There was also the slight possibility the Hufflepuff had done it entirely on his own, though Draco waved away the notion. The Triwizard Tournament had been about cheating since its foundation, at least for anyone who wanted to win. On the subject, his own interest in the competition had only responded to Evan's entry, when he had not expected it at all. If anything, it would have been fitting for someone so infamous in Britain to refrain from so much as showing up, but he supposed the boldness of the Dark Lord truly had rubbed off on his old friend. _Had he come here without entering, he would have been an easy target for the Department, or even the Hufflepuffs._

Evan surfacing from the tent was less dramatic than his previous introduction, but the boy had little to prove. He was much younger than his competitors, which made a great deal of difference when one considered that they had studied magic for longer, if not under the Lord Voldemort. _What is his interest in having him compete in the tournament? He needs no gold, with the Philosopher's Stone he has likely already been buying property all over the world._ The Heir of Slytherin stared down a Chinese Fireball, a massive gold-colored dragon with a red and white face, something well and truly out of an eastern fairy tale, threatening its challenger with a curse in some ancient language, followed by a display of fire. The champion simply raised his wand.

"რეპრესიული სიბნელე" he incanted, waving his wand as the dragon was surrounded in shadow. _Russian- no, somewhere near there, on the western side. Evan has friends in cold places._ The massive beast attempted to free itself with a burst of flame, but the fireball was swallowed by a wave of darkness, pressed back in on its target, as though a great force were collapsing in on it from all sides. The dragon was restrained in moments, strangled and struggling on the ground as the wizard before it merely maintained the spell, his face showing little of whatever feeling he used to connect with the spell, especially from so great a distance. Somewhere in the officials' box, one of the useful idiots was shouting that Evan had won the round, that he had gained the most points for his 'u-undeniably spect-tactular performance', as if such would get him to stop. _The dragon, a chained pet, has threatened him, and he will not suffer it. A pity; the chained pet was probably expensive._ " _Malleus Sceleratus"_ Evan waved his wand again, conjuring a great hammer already dripping with blood, which he immediately brought down on the subdued beast.

He then walked over to the target, picked it up, and walked back.

"That's something to consider," Nott whispered, perhaps the first person in the stands to so much as speak in the last five minutes. "When the Lord Voldemort was in school, he made significant effort to keep other people from realizing his aim was to become the next great dark wizard. Curious, is it not? Grindelwald came centuries after Ekriz-dis, Voldemort almost caught him on the heels, and now Evan is here, while his master is yet at the height of his power."

Draco glared at his vassal as he turned to Parkinson to more or less repeat what he had said. It was not the first time Nott's admiration of the Dark Lord had bordered on the excessive, and he had heard much the same out of the boy's father, who believed the return of their master was ultimately good, since it would wake the magical world from the slow death it was dying, and provide them with the chance to eliminate their most powerful adversaries. Thus far, his prediction was eerily accurate, with the death of Albus Dumbledore and the expansion of blood purism the world over. Though most wizards outside the Department of Mysteries were not likely to have realized, the Death Eaters had been extending bonds of friendship to those with remotely similar views, either on dark magic or the threat the muggles posed, creating something of an international network. The endeavor had proven to be a rather humbling learning experience, even for some of their senior members, discovering pockets of discontent in the world that were previously entirely unknown. When Hogwarts was eventually reformed by the successful Death Eaters, there would have to be at least one class on foreign magic, if indeed a new perspective would enrich the students.

At the same time, when he examined the prospects of world domination by blood purism, one of the greatest obstacles was the Lord Voldemort.

Noticing his vassals meaning to rise around him, he set about leading them back to the castle, the First Task having gone as planned. _His true intentions are a mystery to all, especially those who revere him. Being, however, a half-blood at best, even a cursory logical examination will eliminate the natural supremacy of pure blood from them. Being powerful beyond description, he may even believe no quantity of muggles or wizards may threaten him, which is more concerning still._

"Malfoy, what was that spell your friend was using?" Bode asked, looking somewhat out of place in the group of mostly fouth-years. _His magical skill is about the same, of course. I suppose I should give him a small amount of credit for referring to Evan as my friend, since it is a notion I want to reinforce._

"The tongue was unfamiliar, but it seemed to be an eastern darkness conjuration. As is the expectation with dark magic, the emotional state required would be something like a self-righteous cruelty, and as it is with conjuration, the spell required concentration for the caster to be able to use it to full effect. An impressive display, to be sure, and a fair application of dark conjuration against an ordinarily tricky opponent, but I have my misgivings it would be effective against multiple combatants of any variety. What was your perspective on the matter, Nott?" _A leader considers the information his subordinates may offer. He disregards their opinions._

"I was especially interested by the second conjuration, if I am correct in so presuming." There was no apparent disagreement from the rest of the vassals. "Could a magical hammer, dark as the night itself, be used in a siege?" Draco contained his frown of uncertainty. Magical siege was complicated, and almost always resulted in failure, from what he had read of his ancestors and their wars. Essentially, the defenders had the wards they already cast, and the spells they could cast at any time. The attackers were mostly limited to what they brought with them, and outside an enormous numbers advantage, it seemed almost entirely impossible to succeed, even with the advantage of dark magic.

"As if he would ever deign to be on the front lines," Parkinson scoffed, turning her head to a signpost that pointed to the school and Hogsmeade. "Evan is more suited to command, perhaps wreaking great works to inspire the lesser, replaceable minions." _I had thought her interest was in political power rather than magical power. No matter. He will, almost certainly, reject any overture she makes. Daphne is a more likely candidate, as at present she is no vassal of mine._

"Shut up," Derrick muttered, marching out in front of them. "I heard something." Wands were out. For their individual faults, the vassals were among the best in Slytherin and took threats seriously. _Would that the Beaters had brought their little minions, but no matter._ Draco scanned the area with Legilimency, looking for anything resembling a response. _Who would dare attack us in the open-_ The mental signatures in the general area gave him an idea- _except a foe that vastly outnumbers us._

" _Diffindo!_ " he shouted, pointing ahead of them, the direction of the castle. _Little do they know that I've sent a message that we're going to cut through their forces- almost certainly thicker behind us- though those would be the most cowardly-_

" _Flamma Lacero!_ " Nott shouted, making the decision for him. Correctly surmising their assailants were cloaked somehow, perhaps under disillusionment, he swung the flame whip to provoke a reaction; to make them move. Curses rained in on them, but Parkinson and Bole were shielding appropriately. _The shields should cover all of us- that's the primary advantage, in any event-_ Derrick nearly knocked him off his feet with an ice charm, but he managed to jump it.

The confrontation was over immediately after the teachers arrived.

_What were they thinking would happen, attacking in broad daylight?_ Draco scowled to himself as Professors Snape and McGonagall diffused the situation, forcing their assailants to the ground, hitting several of them with stunners. Some tried to escape, but the movement only made them easier to spot. He raised a hand, ordering the vassals to allow the authorities to handle it.

"What is the meaning of this, Mister Malfoy?" the Deputy Headmistress asked. More of a crowd was gathering. _I've been trying to piece that together myself. Regrettably, I excel at planning only when I have some idea of what is going on._

"As you can see, Professor, we were forced to take a defensive formation-" he began, indicating the circle they had formed. "-for we were vastly outnumbered in a completely unprovoked-"

"Unprovoked? You're building an army-" one of the attackers started from the ground. His charm removed, he was some fifth-year Hufflepuff, though his name must have been unimportant.

"If Malfoy has built an army, he has built one considerably... smaller than yours, Summers," Snape observed. "One would rather doubt that he would attack yours with his, unless the entirety of your force is as... weak and lazy as you."

"I'm not taking this from a Death Eater!" a witch from their numbers shouted, noticing her wand knocked out of her hand.

"Then you will take it from me, Miss Jones," Professor McGonagall said evenly, putting her own wand back into her sleeve. "Detentions for all of you- Hogwarts does not condone attacking other students for their political persuasions, and no quarter will be granted on account of a few Slytherins banding together, which appears to have been perfectly necessary in this case." She looked around, sighing as though she expected better. "For the record, Headmaster Snape defected before the death of Voldemort."

"I believe I shall delegate them to Professor... Lupin's discretion," the former Potions master decided, smirking slightly. "He has quite a way with unruly children, and I believe he will be unoccupied this evening."

The Deputy Headmistress scowled. "You know why he will be unoccupied, as do I. Professor Slughorn will serve." _I suppose it's better to keep him away from the prisoners in the Chamber. Quite a few of them have rather interesting families, though none are Death Eaters, apparently._

The vassals took their leave at his direction. His attempt at signaling them to cut through the enemy had not succeeded, though he would likely only reinforce what the opening spells meant rather than criticizing them too harshly. _They have done well, and they're the only wands in the world on which I can rely._

Early that morning Padma had put a copy of the _Prophet_ under his nose. In a landslide ruling, the Wizengamot decided that in the modern age, 'graduation from an accredited school' was a better qualifier for the legal use of magic than majority, as had been the case for centuries. _They could not make their intent to take over Hogwarts any more plain. All the same, as with their expansion of Ministry powers, their expansion of the value of a Hogwarts degree will backfire on them._

_Before long, we shall have both._


	14. Interlude: Spanish Steel

Amycus was no linguist, but he could read a book. What confused him was how little what he understood of the language matched with reality, or what people were speaking at any rate. _Bloody muggles. Can't understand what you're saying, or they can't understand what you mean._

The Inner Circle had specifically ordered him for the diplomatic mission to Mérida, though the name 'Inner Circle' was misleading, since those men liked the Lord Voldemort the least. _Friends close, enemies closer, I suppose. Wish I knew whose idea it was._ He had some idea they were trying to get rid of him by having him magically learn a language, then go on a long trip by himself. In an ideal case for them, he would just get lost and never come back. _Always keep track of what the other wizard wants, that's what dad always said._

He had reached the city the past evening, unable to apparate there and unwilling to use the highly monitored Floo Network. Instead he had flown across the sea on a new broomstick, staying above the clouds the entire time. Deciding to appreciate the Visigothic ruins, his sightseeing set him back a few hours more than expected, but it was his initiative to arrange the conversation with Alfonso Mola, the leader of the region's _Columna Quinta_ , so there was no particular hurry. That was until he realized it would be harder to arrange than expected, as the wizard was buried under eight or nine layers of security. To so much as find his location in the country, he had to talk to three people in different regions and somewhat different languages.

" _Hola, S_ _eñor Carrow,_ " a woman's voice said from behind him. He knew better than to turn.

" _Hola. Necesito ver el lider, Mola. La luz del Sol va a_ _brillar sobre el acero espa_ _ñol,_ " he managed, remembering the phrase in Catalan had to be translated to proper Spanish. _Damn regional lands. I don't expect anyone to speak bloody Cornish in my house._

As they walked down an alley, she waved her wand to reveal a stone opening, and he nodded at her as he passed through it, though her eyes were averted. _Smart bird. Knows not to look too long at the guests, thinkin' no one can ask her questions about them._

Mola was a short man, but he had a commanding presence in his silver robes, hooded in lieu of a wide brimmed hat.

"Amycus Carrow, servant of the Dark Lord."

"That's me, _brujo de la Columna Quinta._ " It struck him as odd for a moment as they greeted each other like old friends, but in truth he really did feel a sort of kinship with this man. "Is that an enchanted sword?" he asked, noticing it in the movement of his robes.

"As they carried in the days long gone," the Spanish wizard responded, drawing the thin blade, which he knew had been crafted with unbreakable enchantments. "The word Spain refers to a place where metals are forged. The sword cannot be transfigured, broken, banished, or blocked."

Amycus knew little of history, but he had practically lived with the Bloody Baron, who carried a sword for all his time in Hogwarts.

"Might be that's better than a wand in close range."

"It is, by a fair margin. I joke that I use my wand for great transfigurations and enchantments that woo the hearts of women, and the sword is for when I need to kill people." The Death Eater was not such a bore he did not check for the presence of the witch who had led him in.

"You have lain with muggles, then?" he asked, taking a gamble. "Worry not with me, friend, the magical blood needs to be out there in my seeing."

"As in the days of old, where in the royal courts, we were the secret keepers and respected officials, else the danger that lurked in the dark. Magical knowledge was limited in those ages, but I sometimes yearn for them all the same. Had we possessed the same power then, we could have enchanted them all, and never fear them again." _You need to be in the present. The past is gone._ "I can speak only for the dark wizards of Extremadura, but there are those who wish for the proper glory to be restored to the magical world."

"Wizardkind is grateful." _I'll take what I can get._

"Come, though, whatever the state of the world, do you not fight for your corner of it first?"

"If I could keep the world or just Cornwall, I'd pick the world every time." _I'm not that sentimental. I mean, it's my home and I've got family there, but- the Dark Lord is more important. The Lord Voldemort, yes, he can save the world of wizards from the dirty muggles._

"Perhaps, though, you would choose between your life and your land?"

"I would choose Cornwall, of course." _I'm not stupid. I know how this works._

"Do not attempt to deceive me," the Spanish wizard muttered, mood changing. "Tell me of your home, if you care for it."

"I mean, some people still speak Cornish. I can only do a few Cornish spells, and it's mostly old druidic magic." In truth, it was like nothing he had seen elsewhere, but the thing that annoyed him about it was that it seemed to require an entirely different skill set. Producing a killing curse was something he managed by his fifth year at school, but nothing he learned there and nothing he learned in the Death Eaters translated to or from the old magic. The caster, if that was even an appropriate term, would stand there, mouth a word, and moments later it would take shape. " _Awhesyth._ " he whispered, his eyes closed as he remembered the thousands of lessons with his uptight, legalistic grandmother and grandfather.

A morning lark flew in the window and alighted on his hand as he extended it.

"The magic is based on memory, I think, but it's been a while since-"

"Incredible- did you conjure it? Transfigure it?" Mola asked, almost fearfully indicating the bird.

"I remembered it. It came." _Don't have a damn clue what's going on behind the scenes._

" _Maravillosa_...You say a word and it happens. The Dark Lord has seen this, I assume?"

"Think he wanted to know if there was anything that would help him keep himself alive in Cornish." In truth, he knew nothing about keeping the dark wizard alive, but had offered to show him a spell that would keep his memory in place, if artificially. One of the other Death Eaters laughed at the idea of their master needing to know any old man's tricks rather derisively, and while he might have been laughing at the suggestion, the Lord Voldemort simply waved a hand and the man found himself bloodying up the wall.

"If he has ever come to Extremadura, I would think he used a false name. We have our secrets here, from the Romans and the Visigoths to the Moors and the mountain kingdom. He would gain much by seeking them out, if he has not already." _Well he's here for wands. If he wants secrets of magic, he'll look for them. He wouldn't send me._

"Didn't know the Moorish sorcerers were still here."

" _La Reconquista_ was essentially successful, but it was far from permanent. As they crossed from Gibraltar before, they cross yet again, and the current system does nothing to stop them, magical or otherwise." He gave an aggravated sigh. "I shall speak no ill of the African wizards themselves, as there are those in their numbers who wish to help us, yet they could do so from other lands. Spreading beyond the Spanish possessions has proven difficult, to say the least."

"We've bought some property in the disputed territories. Probably can't keep buying things with gold forever, since they'll just change the currency eventually, but I can't imagine what kind of massive bureaucratic effort that would take for all the magical governments in the world to agree on something new." _Don't know if they agreed to it in the first place, but they're all using the Galleon and that can't be some sort of accident._ History of Magic was not something that had stayed with him.

"There are some Spanish lands in which you may be interested. Antilla has been a secret from the muggles for centuries." Mola offered. "Do you mean to own the whole world?"

"Wouldn't be bad. When we're done producing gold because we can't get anyone to accept it anymore, we'll just sell Elixir at high prices. We'll be making a fortune off all of our properties anyway, rent money, you know, and we'll be the richest men in the world."

"You may not need to worry about a change in currency at all. Create a thousand or so company bank accounts with all the gold you can put in them, and when the Ministries of the world exchange gold for the new money, you will have a lot of it." _Don't have a damn clue how much either. Really, I didn't think this was what he'd be doing with the Philosopher's Stone when he told us he had it._

It had started like any other day, though it would not end that way.

Alecto needed him to bail her out again, so he found himself in court testifying that she had been under the Imperius Curse for the past few weeks at least, or that was what the symptoms he noticed indicated. It had been a rather grueling process, but Parkinson was a skilled legal advocate and she was out after a few months of misconduct, his own sentence being for failing to report the evident use of dark magic. The entire time he was sitting in the Wizengamot, the expression on his face would have been utter disbelief. Retrospectively, it might have been a good mug to wear for his sister's trial, but the real reason was because the Dark Lord had returned.

It was complete chaos inside his brain, but that chaos was anything but evident in the world around him. Everything was proceeding as he might have expected. The Ministry was denying it and increasing funding to the Auror Corps at the same time, the children were coming home crying, and everyone was speaking in hushed tones, Death Eater and mudblood alike. Amycus supposed it meant something different to them, but that was fine in his book.

It turned out he had stored the damn Stone in a random tree, not a hallowed grave of his forefather, or a vault in Gringotts or anything sensible, it was a fucking oak tree not far from the school itself- fly outside, drop the damn thing in a bird's nest, fly back in as he transfigures a fake one, just to see if he could. The facsimile was never even worked into the plan until five minutes before it became relevant. _Probably feeling too good about himself to think straight, or he's just being a bit justifiably arrogant. Justifiably arrogant's probably how I'd describe him if anyone asked and he couldn't put me in the ground for it._ The consequence for him and Avery had been that the two of them had to find the damn thing, but not use it in any way, and bring it to bloody Albania. It ended up being mostly Avery on account of the trial, but he went back after that all the same. No Death Eater who wanted to live very long missed the resurrection, though a fair number of them claimed they were tied up. _Crouch was right- those are the worst of them. Tossers who try to shirk the service of the Dark Lord, all because they were hoping against hope he never came back. Did all the same things we did and spent the rest of their lives getting away with it._

"Let's talk business, then. We need wands in this war. We know the other side wants overseas help as well, and we'd be just as happy sealing off the country until our war is over, but we'll probably just have to counter them, measure for measure. Kill their recruitment in Spain, or Extremadura at least."

The Spaniard seemed to consider it.

"Preventing Apparation in and out of Britain would not be impossible. You might even be able to do it legally if you declared a state of war. What of it, though? Why would the Death Eaters gain from fighting their enemies alone? Are you certain you outnumber your enemies, or they outnumber you internationally? I should think very few countries would be willing to help them. They would reap no reward." _We're not wanting outside help on our own shores 'cause it won't be long before they won't be ours anymore. Might be I'm not bright, but the rest of us are smart enough. We just have to fight to win or die trying._

"We have the support of the grand majority of the people," Amycus fabricated. "Got some little shits in Hogwarts, well, I can't say that, one of 'em is my daughter, but the rest of them together might as well be responsible for killing my other daughter- anyway, one of us who's smack at Arithmancy says that the kids at the school are a fair indication of the country as a whole. If the majority of them are all for helping the Death Eaters, their parents are probably the same." He managed to speak mostly without lying, as he suspected the other wizard could detect it, but the truth was much simpler. Seizing the majority of Hogwarts would mean seizing hostages for a majority of families in Britain, or the valuable ones at least. "At any rate, Britain should be no trouble for us. Had it out of Avery 'fore he died that we really can't go cannibalizing other dark wizards from other countries. Too few of us and too many of them. Moving around will only put more of us out of our own element." He shook his head. "What we need you to do is keep the Spanish from helping our enemies. Kill 'em if you have to."

"I can tell you things about magic of which you knew nothing before. Only the most advanced shields can stop the _Incendio del Diablo,_ " Mola offered. The expression on his face was of pride, though there was a touch of confusion. He seemed truly confused as to why the Death Eaters did not want the _Columna Quinta_ to hit their enemies with unexpected magic. "If nothing else, you will need to counter them, bringing foreign magic against you. What do you know of Chinese magic? The main school suggests there are several different forms: Fa, which is kind of like law, but really methods and standards, and they use it for warding. They have these overwrought spells they call Shi, which serve to influence or possibly control massive amounts of people. Shu is the manner of prophecy they have. They receive no vague notions of their personal futures, nor do they get an idea of what will happen a thousand years from now. They learn what will most likely happen tomorrow, and they plan their next move."

"We can fight that if we have to-"

"I hardly gave you an inkling. Chinese history goes back thousands of years, and their magic has only continued to develop, without any of it being lost."

"They supported the Statute-"

"They might have _proposed_ the Statute, had there been any point. I expect they saw it coming and decided to quietly vote on it, keeping everyone from realizing their position."

Amycus's eyes were swimming.

"Alright, well they have their magic and we have ours. There are a lot of them, but they've probably no plans to invade Britain. They've got to realize the real threat are the muggles, if they like the Statute so much..." He trailed off. He was speaking out of fear, not information, and he could tell the difference. _I've got to get this under control._ "An' you're saying that all we need is to ask you for help?"

"Ask the world, dark wizard, and the answer will rise from the shadows. Our enemies are greater in number than we, and their purposes conflicting. The expansion of magic unites us, and our pride for our homelands will not divide our numbers."

_Selwyn and Malfoy would disagree. Our best bets for allies around the world are a mix of sort-of blood purists and dark wizards. Something like half or two thirds'd kill each other if they got the chance. Can't tell you how many different lines we've fed to various groups across America and Mexico._

"The world of dark magic is less united than you believe," the Death Eater said diplomatically. "We believe we have enough unexpected magic to succeed against the Ministry and anyone else with the bollocks." He sighed, weighing his options. "If you meant to duel someone, and it was a choice of wands and swords, or only swords, which would you do?" Mola appeared to consider it. "The real truth of it is, there's no right answer. That's what Mulciber told me about our current situation, anyway." _We can't even begin to guess what would happen if we mixed every kind of magic in the same war. That's a question for proper academics._

"I would fight with the sword alone," the Spanish wizard answered at last. "I know not my opponent's skill with blade or wand, but I know my own skill with a blade. I would trust it with my life and my death. To die holding steel... never believe the Visigoths left us with nothing."

The pair of them shook hands and Amycus took his leave. He had every expectation the _brujo_ was hiding something, which meant he was probably hiding a fair bit more, but there was nothing for it. The meeting had gone as well as could reasonably have been predicted.

_I return to the Dark Lord successful. Really hope the Inner Circle can't say the same._


	15. Guard Detail

Ron had grown less nervous around Hannah, though he could not accurately describe his feelings for her, even as she was wolfing out in the mysterious room, leaving him to look for other places to sleep for the evening. _Gryffindor's prob'ly not too dangerous at this point. They'll figure out I'm no enemy of theirs, and they've got more than enough of those._

It had disturbed him to learn of what were being called 'dark lions', members of his own House who had decided to essentially cast their lot with the Death Eaters. He could hardly blame them for being against the Ministry and its minions at Hogwarts, but he had hoped to at least know which enemies were where, and that Gryffindor's long standing rivalry with Slytherin would outline at least one clear border. The trouble was, House loyalty seemed to erode after the Hufflepuffs started openly flaunting the points, which developed in tandem with the others understanding and respecting their decisions in light of Snape's unfairness.

Only a few moments ago, he had caught sight of a handful of Gryffindors in a corridor, but they had not been going to bed.

He noticed they were taking good stock of their surroundings, and subsequently hid behind a suit of armor. _Three of them- Lee Jordan, Jack Sloper, and Alicia Spinnet- where are they going?_ Following them slowly down the stairs, he suspected it was going to be another attack on the Slytherins, and probably on the most vulnerable among them, though if that were the case he would have no idea how to respond. _I'd have to fight them. They can't just decide that the first-years will grow up to be Death Eaters or something. Trouble is, there're more of them._

It appeared, however, that they were not going to the dungeons, for they got off the stairs at the second floor. Keeping his distance, Ron followed them until they stopped, looking around. _They can't be after the entrance to the Chamber. None of them can get in._

For some indeterminable length of time, he waited for them to do something, but it seemed they were content to stand there in the corridor. _There's nothing for it._ He surfaced from his position on the stairs and went down to meet them.

"What are you three doing here?" he asked.

"Someone has to guard the entrance at night," Jack answered. "I don't know who would want to break them out, but I don't want to find out either."

"They're regular criminals, so probably not the Slytherins," he decided. "Some of the Hufflepuffs might want to slaughter them wholesale."

Alicia shook her head at the notion.

"If anyone wanted to do that, they already would have. The Auror Corps can't spare the wands to protect them from the students, nor did they think it would be necessary at the time. Instead of posting a detail in there, they warded the floor to erupt in flames the moment any kind of spell is cast in there. It would only take around four wands for one of them to get past us, then all the prisoners would be dead, assuming they have someone who can open the Chamber."

Ron made the necessary leap in logic to conclude that someone in the Aurors could speak Parseltongue, probably having learned it in response to everything that had happened in the last two years.

"If they want to break someone out, though, it's going to take a bit more," Lee Jordan supplied. "Getting past us won't do it; they'll have to kill us, and they'll need some way of getting them out of the castle. They might have an unregistered portkey," he suggested, perhaps only just thinking of it. _He's a friend of Fred and George._

"You can't get an unregistered portkey this side of Knockturn Alley," the younger Gryffindor objected, hoping to provoke an explanation. Jack Sloper shook his head.

"You can if you know where to look. Height of the war, maybe seventy nine or eighty, people were trying to get out of the country. Ministry really couldn't have the population just disappear like that, so they started registered portkeys; set up their own offices so they'd know where people were going. Didn't have the clout at the time for anything like a total ban on unregistered enchantments, so they just created another term. Started running some _Prophet_ articles about the Aurors catching dark wizards all thanks to the registered portkeys. Enough of them were true the rest might've not been and no one would've known the difference."

Alicia gave him a long look before speaking.

"Are you going to ask us if we're dark lions?"

"Not that stupid."

"What about you, then?" she continued. "I know most of your brothers, or I did at one time. You're not like any of them." _No idea whether to take that as a compliment or not. Prob'ly not._

"Azkaban being blown up doesn't mean total war," he answered at length. "You're standing in front of a possible prison. Don't know why we can't just expand the inside of a chest and shrink it down in someone's pocket." Jordan sighed.

"If even one of the prisoners knows wandless magic or there's a guard in there with a wand-"

"All I'm saying is there are alternatives. I get the idea everyone's wanted a total war for a while. I wouldn't mind knowing where my enemies were, but I don't reckon I'd be so lucky." He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face, mentally pacing in concentration. "The Death Eaters didn't destroy _civilization itself._ They destroyed a prison." _It's what Hermione says anyway. I can't even figure out my feelings about-_

"We're not siding with the Death Eaters, Ron," Sloper revealed. "At the same time, every day it gets harder and harder to tell my old friends why they shouldn't."

His words hung in the air a moment, and it seemed everyone decided to let them lie. _If anyone guilts him because of his associations, I'll be the last. Neville needs to figure out his life, but he's not a damn blood purist._

Deciding to leave the three of them to their thankless task, he remembered that Mafalda would just have to put up with the sounds of Hannah growling and what not, but he had no other place to suggest she sleep, least of all the Slytherin dormitories. He knew not the extent of what the second-years had done to her, but if she had chosen to go to a literal stranger over the witches in her year, they were probably aware of it.

His anger faded and he adopted a downcast expression as he remembered Jack and probably more than a few of the older Gryffindors were basically in the same position as those on the sidelines who knew what had happened to the young witch hiding in the mysterious room. Well, some of them probably also had friends going over to help the mad Hufflepuffs, but it was not as if the Slytherins were entirely united, as far as Zabini had explained. _What are you meant to do when your friends are doing something bad?_

He stopped in the hallway, staring into a torch on the wall. He wished, perhaps not for the first time, that there could be an easy answer. If there were some kind of leader, something to define what the good side was and what the bad side was, it would be the simplest thing in the world to follow that leader. _Dumbledore was the closest thing we ever had to a leader like that. He united both of the bad sides against himself._

The idea was more tenuous than it had seemed at first, as he found in discussing it with Terry the following day over lunch.

"It's not bad, I suppose, it solves the coordination problem, but to state the obvious, you're painting an enormous target on someone's hindquarters. Have a powerful, well known warlock in mind?

"We could use your mentor from this summer," Ron suggested. "What's a coordination problem?"

"She's apolitical. I couldn't have convinced her to care about anything other than ambitious magical rituals that may well tear apart the fabric of reality," the Ravenclaw explained. "A coordination problem, fortunately, is much simpler. How many people do you think are basically willing to support Death Eaters, if for no other reason than because the alternative might be worse?"

"At Hogwarts? I reckon about a hundred, give or take."

"Okay, and how many people are dyed-in-the-wool blood purists who really want everyone else dead?"

"Can't be more than a dozen," he responded, squinting.

"And, of course, there's only one Voldemort." _Can't say luck never did anything for us._ "The other side is quite similar, if a bit more complicated. A few people in the Department of Mysteries control a faction, the faction controls the _Prophet_ and somewhere down the line we can presume they're at least feeding information to the Hufflepuffs, possibly this 'Electrum' character. How many people at Hogwarts are completely in favor of everything they're doing, including putting Umbridge here last year?"

"A dozen? A half dozen?" Ron answered, somewhat exasperated. Legilimency was not one of his strong suits.

"How many people are just afraid of the Death Eaters and don't think they have any other option? How many of them are Hufflepuff first-years who are afraid of being _called_ Death Eaters?"

"Prob'ly more. Are you trying to say this whole thing is a huge misunderstanding? Like, if we just told Voldemort and the Department to fight it out, everyone would look around and say 'well, glad we've go that out of the way'?"

"It's a coordination problem. There are a handful of people who really want to do awful things to a large number of people. Would that ordinarily work out?"

"I don't suppose."

"What Hannah suggested on the train, that we try to recruit more people, I've been thinking about it a lot." The Gryffindor nodded. _Well, for the record, I've gone over everything you and Hermione said._ "I think if we're going to recruit anyone, we need got to get the people who don't really want to belong to either side, and there are more of them than you would think. When we achieve some kind of critical mass in Hogwarts, those who were thinking of running have a positive probability of joining us instead."

"Well, how do we get to critical mass?" Ron asked, getting up from the table- _Think it's Defense next- have to find out what the Second Task is so I can tell Cedric or one of the group._

"We would have to lose our anonymity. We would have to, as you suggest, unite our enemies against us. Only then would a few join our ranks, the greater part fearful of sharing in our almost certain fate." _Starting to sound like-_ "-and that's why I am unable to advise it. We need powerful magic, Ronald Weasley. A powerful army is beyond our reach in this life or the next," he explained, nearly whispering as the two of them walked. "It may be difficult for the sort that likes to fight, but I need you to maintain anonymity. I need you to trust me- me and the group."

They parted ways.

_If we keep calling it 'the group', someone's still going to ask what it is._

Hannah seemed to agree with the notion after their surprise test in Defense, though he told her little else of the conversation.

"I can see it now," she described. "The mysterious someone has a spiderweb of blurry photos and names with floating lines of magical light connecting them- in the center? a single phrase: What is the group?" Looking around and checking over their shoulders as they were walking, as always, she stepped a bit closer. "Did you happen to tell him about..."

"No, it must've slipped my mind with everything else we were discussing. Did you run into Hermione by any chance?" he deflected. The Hufflepuff changed the way she was carrying her books.

"Well, no," she answered honestly. "I almost thought that you would prefer to tell her yourself, since she kind of-"

"What?"

"Never mind. I can't imagine it's important now," she decided. "I'll tell her. Just be sure to get to Terry and some point. I've been thinking about it, and we really couldn't keep it from them if we tried, and it's better that we just tell them."

"I agree," he offered. "We should really tell them in private, though." _I don't even know what we're telling them._

"That sounds like it would be best." She looked down. "My mother would probably ask what your intentions are." _Right. I forgot she didn't have a dad._

"I mean, I intend to live at least 'till I'm seventy or something, but I can't promise it," he answered at length. "Do you want to find out more about each other?" _That's what people do, isn't it? I mean, these things don't always last forever at Hogwarts._

"I know what you mean," Hannah said softly.

"Meet me at Hogsmeade tomorrow, okay? It'll be the weekend and I reckon we could at least do something together." The blonde witch nodded at his suggestion, probably reading more into it than he intended. _Might be I wouldn't have that problem if I told her my intentions._

For the remainder of his classes he had a nagging thought that he only saw her as a warm body and a pretty face, but it would be even worse if she found out about that. _I wouldn't care about what she thought of me if I didn't care about her. Well, I'm pretty sure even Malfoy wouldn't want a witch crying on him and telling everyone-_

"Mr. Weasley," Professor Slughorn asked. "Is something on your mind?"

"Apologies, sir, do go on." he waved, attempting to mimic the pudgy wizard's general dialogue. _I don't believe he was lecturing about anything important. He's one of those teachers you can get off topic the whole class._

"Right, to answer Miss Patil's question, very little of Potioneering is considered dark. In your later classes, you will wrap your supple minds around the theory, and begin to understand how new potions can be created from it, whether or not any of you decide to pursue that academically or professionally. If you do, though, remember to look me up. I always do enjoy hearing from an old student every now and again."

"Thank you, sir," Padma responded. Hermione was glaring at her for some reason.

" _What?_ " he whispered.

"I'll tell you after class."

They were meant to brew a Wideye potion, which was properly a third-year recipe, but the instructions seemed more complex than he and his friend remembered.

"It must be a more effective version," the witch decided, speaking mostly to herself.

Ron was glad not to poison himself with the aconite leaves after sticking them in his mouth, noting that his favorite ingredients had a habit of being levitated around. _Damn blood purists- they've had a good bit of the Ravenclaws for going on a year now and they've never let me forget._

"She's trying to think of ways to skirt the new laws," the familiar voice from behind him explained as they walked.

"What new laws?"

"They're the kind that have yet to come. The Ministry's cracking down on what can be considered dark, and she's trying to see what she can research, to better serve her master," Hermione said, a venom in her voice.

"Malfoy?"

"No, Volde-" She glared. "For the record, they're passing a resolution through the Wizengamot that will essentially hand out magic licences to graduates of Hogwarts."

"What do we need those for? When we hit the age of majority-" In her stare he remembered Jack Sloper's account of the introduction of 'registered portkeys'.

"Slimy bastards- don't know how it gets me by surprise every time."

"Did you tell Cedric about the First Task?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"He didn't believe me. Can't say why."

"Well... at least the notion was in his mind," Hermione decided at length. _Have to get to class._ "Oh and..." He turned back. _Don't be about Hannah-_ "I support Terry's position. I've thought about it, and I think he's right. We can only win with magic."

It did not escape his notice that she said she supported the other Ravenclaw's position and not him specifically as he nodded politely and walked off to class. He had never heard her describe him as entirely tactless, though perhaps that was only because she had a smattering of tact herself. _'s really just that she doesn't think about Terry and whether or not he likes her. She's not just ignoring him, I know her._

Not for the first time that hour he questioned himself as he took a seat in another class. _Do I know her that well?_ He cringed internally. _Do I know Hannah that well?_

Deciding at length that he was going to leave the dramatic hogwash to the witches who were better at that sort of thing, he took out his notes to find he had written them rather efficiently the last time, making them unreadable.

"Bollocks," he muttered, losing five points for language.


	16. Extracurricular Activities

Meeting with Terry in Ravenclaw Tower at night, she learned that Ron had found out from his friend in Beauxbatons about the next Task, though mostly because it was no secret.

"Apparently all they needed to do was submerge the golden egg thing in water and it started speaking the Queen's English."

"Where did they get that idea?"

"Apparently Capet recognized some kind of Mermish symbol on the exterior and decided that it might have been made underwater. Anyway, the rest of the details are hazy, but that's where the champions are meant to be going."

"The Black Lake," Hermione decided. "What do we know about it?" _It was named after Arcturus Black in recognition of significant contribution to the school._

"There are merpeople living down there. I think Crouch speaks the language, but he wouldn't dream of interfering in the competition. The sympathy for him is growing in Hufflepuff, at least according to Hannah's friend Susan."

"Which champion are they supporting?"

"Fleur, I believe," Cho chimed in, overhearing their discussion. _So you've extracted yourself from Roger's arms._ "They want more international interference in Britain's conflict. Fleur is related to important people."

Hermione frowned. It seemed, if anything, like a tangential way of getting France involved with the Death Eaters and the Ministry, which would have an entirely uncertain effect if it did work.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Their statement was exactly as I said."

The seated Ravenclaws nodded, and their Chinese friend went back to her work.

"I have my doubts they're really supporting her," Terry decided at length. "It makes sense that they would release such a statement, though, especially if they've really got something else in mind."

"It's odd, though, since previously they were at least up front about what they wanted and what they were planning." _It was one of their only positive qualities. They wanted to expose dark magic at Hogwarts and bring everything to light. The problem is that they have to decide whether they hate dark magic or blood purism more, because everything is an absolute with them. If they want to pursue the Death Eaters with every resource they have available, they will have to use dark magic._ She sighed before saying anything else. If the conspirators failed to make a logical leap, it would not be the first time.

"In either case, we know they're not supporting Cedric. I'll tell the others at the most proximate opportunity," the dark-haired wizard said. "There was something I wanted to bring to your attention specifically," he explained as he drew a book from his bag. Hermione looked around for lip-readers, casting a muffling charm. "As far as we know, the Death Eaters have no effective counter to spirits."

Hermione nodded. She had tried asking Neville to look into the international expansion of the dark wizards, but he was hardly Voldemort's best mate, in his words. If anything he was a source of information about the Hufflepuff conspiracy, and only a marginally useful one, since none of the active members trusted him enough to tell him anything. Jokingly, he supposed it was something of an advantage. Anywhere he went, they could not communicate.

"So we summon spirits to attack them? Can they travel through shield charms?"

Terry nodded.

"It's similar to the theory on the killing curse, that the caster must channel his soul for the effort. Whatever the case, it sounds a rather plebeian strategy without anything else going on. I believe Ron would be quick to accept any help we could get, including help from spirits, but the advantage of a secret weapon lies in using it at the right time, to the greatest effect."

"Should we save it for Voldemort?" she asked at a whisper.

"Quite possibly- it may well be our only way of killing him. Greater wizards than I have tried and failed, and more will try and fail before the opportunity presents itself. Trapping him in the spirit world would have disastrous implications for both it and our world, even if the connections were severed, but there likely exists some magic there that could rival his own." He waved a hand. "That's enough speculation, though."

"Theory is based on fact," Hermione concurred. "What we need is something we can use, and the strategy will decide how we use it. Ron's right about decisive action- I was the one who told him our enemies are only going to get stronger and force more people to help them before they even think about fighting each other." _If anything, the Death Eaters and the Department might even be the best of friends- If it were not for one, the other would have a hard time rallying the cooler heads._

"If he can come up with something slightly less mad in the way of decisive action, I promise to hear him out. If we intend to bring up people who were right despite how much they annoy me, Anthony was right about needing a secure hideout. We have the room. We can't abandon Hogwarts. We need _years_ more magical education to stand a ghost of a chance- but splitting up over the summer has to stop."

"Then it needs to be something concealed, like the room." It continued to irk her that she had no idea how it worked. "We would all be separating ourselves from our parents, possibly indefinitely-" _I can't do that. Most people my age think they don't need their parents._

"-the better to protect them. Yours are in danger, and the same is true of Hannah's mother." _I don't know who your parents are._ "If my parents and the Weasleys want to do something about our current situation, that's their decision."

_Maybe you do like decisive action after all._

"Tell me what you have in mind."

"I wish I could call it a perfect solution, but the truth is I still need to work on it." He sighed. "I looked into the Durmstrang ship, trying to figure out how they travel between bodies of water. The information is under lock and key, but I don't believe it's mermish."

"I took out a book on ghost ships, as many of them have similar abilities," Hermione offered, having been similarly interested. "There's one that might be in your wheelhouse called the _Caleuche._ Apparently it is crewed by the drowned, brought there by the pincoya, something of a mermaid from Chiloé." _I had no idea there were different varieties, but it makes sense- the commonly depicted mermaid is a warm water variety, while the ones in the lake are selkies._ Magical creatures were outside of most of what she studied, but she was aware the merpeople were only labeled as beasts because they refused the 'being' designation.

_They may well be just as intelligent as the rest of us, along with goblins and centaurs... it's a pity we'll never know it._

"I've heard it compared to the _Flying Dutchman_." Terry confirmed, seeming a bit cheered she had taken an interest. "If we summoned it, we would have to capture it, then we could begin to learn how to control it. At that point it would be an incredible asset. I have a general idea of where it is, but we would have to contend with Warlocks."

Hermione nodded. _We'll have to keep it mind. It seems kind of beyond us, though._

"You wanted to discuss magical theory?"

"Of course," he sighed, as if preparing himself. "Most of what we know indicates that magic is about intent, but as you've said, you can't just expect your wand, the god of magic, or whatever to simply guess what you mean- even minor mispronunciations of incantations will yield no result. On the other hand, you have wandless and accidental magic."

"Accidental magic almost always being silent and wandless, I would think that neither the incantation nor the wand motion are technically required by logical implication."

"Of course. But since performing accidental magic, have you succeeded in doing anything like it again?" he asked.

"Of course not." _I can't help but feel like we're just going over old thought experiments._ "So to be able to perform magic reliably, you need a wand, knowledge, and proper spellwork. This has been understood for centuries."

"It has," Terry admitted, tossing his wand in the air and summoning it back to his hand. "All the same, that appears to not always be the case."

"Did you learn wandless magic as a proof of concept?"

"Not entirely," he defended. "I believe the process of learning how to perform a few tricks without a wand was quite informative. It's documented as well, as it appears I'm not the first wizard who wanted a way of getting his wand back." _If they've learned how to reliably perform magic without a wand, and they've managed to explain how to do it in books, the theory of magic might just write itself._

"In that case it follows that you do not need the proper spellwork," Hermione said at a measured pace. "At the same time, we can't just backtrack to everything being about intent. I hardly intended to perform accidental magic, and I doubt the same would be true of anyone else. Accidental magic seems to be the product of an emotional need, of desperately searching for an answer until one is discovered."

"I would assume experiments have been done on squibs to see if they simply missed their first bout of accidental magic and had trouble getting the hang of it after that," the dark-haired wizard provided, omitting the obvious 'and if they ever succeeded, there would be no squibs', perhaps out of politeness.

"Right. Having heard a tiny bit about dark magic, I can state with confidence that there is an emotional component to casting dark spells. That makes dark magic the next piece of the logical puzzle, as I cannot yet equate dark magic with accidental magic, not sufficiently understanding both. I might have to amend my earlier statement that suggests an answer is discovered with accidental magic, because children and adults usually fail to replicate the exact nature of the magical feat. If they understood what they were doing, having done it before, this would not be the case." She paused. "When I was a child, I once correctly guessed the answer to a maths problem." It had been a rather embarrassing event, as she was unable to explain how she knew the answer and unwilling to admit she simply guessed. "I had not been paying attention when the problem was explained, so I did not know the question, nor did I know the answer."

"An improbable double coincidence, to be sure, but if enough children are asked enough unheard questions, it follows..." Terry started, deciding it was not necessary to continue with a wave of the hand.

"As... as I stated earlier, there's more information to be collected, especially about dark magic, but-"

"But we're close to a percent of the knowledge of magic that Voldemort has," Terry finished, a humorless smile on his lips. "I've overheard a fair measure of Padma's greatest hits as well. Mandy's a touch closer to a blood purist legalist, for what it's worth."

It was time for bed, meaning it was time to make plans, to make sense of the thoughts that would not leave her until some indeterminate point in the night, asleep in the relative safety of the mostly neutral Ravenclaw Tower, in the relative safety of the high walls of Hogwarts.

The night was dark, and her mind was swimming with plans to see Hagrid and ask about spirit creatures.

The following morning, the girls in the dorm were talking, which they usually did in the common area.

"What are you wearing to the ball?" Padma was asking Lisa Turpin. Hermione had not spoken with her, mostly because it seemed she preferred to study alone. _Well, that and I was never good at making friends with girls._

"I'm not exactly certain at this point. I may have to match my date." _I didn't need a reminder as to why._

"I'll have to get something in emerald, of course. I can hardly wait for Draco to ask me." To the silent observer's surprise, Lisa actually smiled, if in an embarrassed way.

"You know I don't agree with everything he's been saying, but I just think your whole relationship is just perfect- and it fits too, since you've been together for so long." _They started last year._

Leaving the dormitory, not for the first time annoyed with its occupants, she briefly considered going to the ball, but decided her time would be better spent studying. _I don't need to be seen a certain way by the school. I'm not one of those... people who needs to be seen a certain way._

The venture with Hagrid proved somewhat promising, as he knew a little of spirit creatures, including the Nguruvilu, apparently a 'right slippery littl' bugger'. He was not aware of where you would find one naturally, as he was not sure if the term even applied, but they had only ever been seen in Patagonia.

The castle was quite abuzz with talk of the ball, to where she assumed there had been an announcement, and that she simply missed it or tuned it out. A few of the older wizards seemed to be taking Ron's advice and striking early, but she had little doubt that the young man himself would be more bashful. _It is hardly as if he talks to girls apart from me and Hannah. He probably has even less experience with that than Draco._ An amused blush complimented her thoughts, but she dismissed the idea as the conclusion arrived. _Of course, he does not need to know how to talk to girls if that is not what he wants to do. I can hardly impose a different standard on him than what I use for myself._

In her first few classes, witnessing a couple requests take place, she decided that she would politely decline if anyone asked her. At the same time, it was really a pointless decision, but in fairness she had already arranged her schedule for seventh year, barring a change in her interests or necessity.

Meeting Hannah at lunch, she refrained from bringing it up directly.

"I worked out a few details with Terry," she said, looking up from a steak and kidney pie.

"Oh, did he ask you to the ball?"

"I don't know he's heard about it," the Ravenclaw answered. "We were talking about magical theory."

"I'll bet you two liked that," the Hufflepuff witch decided, a smile forming.

"Well, yes. I even noticed our general dialogue changing." _It's hardly the first time I decided it was nice to be among my fellow Ravenclaws._

"There's something I need to tell you," her friend blurted out.

"Yes?"

"Ron... well, a few days ago... he asked me to the ball."

Hermione blinked.

"You're taking this well," Hannah said. "I mean, there were so many ways I imagined you could respond. Not that you have ever not taken anything well in the past-"

"How did he know about the ball?"

"What?"

"I thought it was announced last night and I missed it. If it were announced any earlier, I would think that the announcement would have to be even less effective. I only heard of it this morning."

"He asked Cedric," the blonde witch responded, somewhat quickly.

"He asked Cedric if there would be a ball?"

"No, they were talking about the next thing the champions have to do, that thing that we're investigating on top of everything else, and Ron asked if he knew anything about what was coming up. Cedric kind of- he kind of rolled his eyes and said there would be a ball, then Ron rolled his eyes-"

"I get it." _Ron should have already told him what the next Task is- and after he was right last time, Cedric should be more inclined to believe it._ "I had been under the impression he had not run into Cedric."

"Did I tell you how I found out about the First Task?" Hannah asked.

"Do. I was wondering about that."

"Well, you know how I told you about how I found the room? Apparently, you can ask it for a different kind of room. I've tried a few different things so far, like a sweets shop, a sweets shop with no mirrors, and a dress store. That was last night. It was harder than you might think to come up with the specific things you might need, because the room doesn't just do whatever, there were a few times that I opened the door and got the same thing."

"That means there is most likely not a set of rooms from which the door chooses. The room is new every time," Hermione speculated, interested. _Well, it still might be possible that we're accessing the same room. Every time I approach it it's at least how I left it._

"Yeah, that's definitely possible, but there are more tests I would have to run to be sure. Ron keeps telling me that; it's something I've had to work through in a way."

As she and her friend parted, the Ravenclaw thought the other girl was talking a bit quickly, but that was the tendency for the racing mind. What refused to leave her alone was the announcement. _It doesn't bother me that Ron would ask a girl to the ball. I just don't understand why. He hasn't ever given any indication he likes her. Well, not that I've seen. Is he worried someone else might use it as a chance to kidnap her?_ She almost laughed to herself, but remembered she had to pay attention. That was something Hannah would dream up. All of a sudden she remembered the blonde witch putting her arms around him when he came back after being missing.

_Well, I'm not going to see either of them any differently. It's just a ball, and I don't care about it._


	17. Your Other Self and You

_At least no one asks me too much about freaking out as a werewolf. Small mercy, that._

Hannah preferred to suffer in silence, generally. It made things easier. There were no pitying stares, no false sympathies, really nothing other than the odd teacher chewing her out for missing an assignment. For Ron it was a sort of golden-rule argument, where if he did not want to hear everyone else's problems, he would not burden others with his own. She had never actually heard him say the phrase 'golden rule', and it was quite possible he had never heard it called that, as it was just a general ethical principle that seemed to occur to most responsible people without particular effort. Failing that, they could be introduced to it once and get the hang of it immediately. It simply was not that complicated.

 _Well, the weekend's over and I am no closer to finding anything about the Second Task. I have tried the same trick, but they must know even less than I do._ She closed the book she was reading. Mermish was not a human language; it was not something she could learn inside a week, even magically. _We'll have to use Ron's friend. He will never go against his own team, but we may just have to support Fleur anyway. I hope he sees that anything except Durmstrang winning would be well and good, or at least tolerable._

"Ron?" she whispered, finding him working before Ancient Runes. "Do you think Capet would be willing to help Cedric and Fleur?"

"No."

"What if he helped them both at once?" she asked, grimacing internally. Injuring herself trying to get free of the chains was something she realized she did a while back.

"No."

"Well, what if we helped Fleur?"

"Hannah, do you know what this bloke thinks of the Malfoys? He's got a few of 'em in France." It was her turn to say 'no', but that turned out to be unnecessary. "He hates 'em about as bad as I do. Figures, since they're fuckin' evil tossers everywhere they go," he explained, not looking up. "They're cheaters. They haven't done a damn thing honestly in their entire existence, since one cousin had his way with another and they were already three layers thick in the same surname, so they called the damn thing Malfoy."

"I don't give a damn what the Malfoys do, Ron. If Durmstrang wins this, it'll be a sign the whole world over," she started, casting the muffling charm on the area around their seats as the rest of the class filed in. "For something like eighty percent of people, it isn't important which side is right, just which side is winning- and the moment a Slytherin with a fake surname wins the Tournament for a foreign school-"

"Where d'you get that idea? How is it you know people're like that?" he asked. _I'm not just imagining things, if that's what you're implying-_

"Do you think it's right to treat werewolves the way we-"

"Hannah, shut up- shut up-" he swatted at her as other students stared at them. _Damn. There has to be some kind of counter to the muffling charm- why did I never think of it before?_ "For the record, I'm not the idealist here, not really. It's Capet who won't sacrifice his principles, and he's got good reason not to. Been thinkin' about something Terry said earlier."

"What?"

"Tell you after class."

As it happened, after class was the vague time delimiter that she had hoped it would not be. The Gryffindor's continued absence gave her the time to sink into warding research, which put her little closer to anything like trapping dementors, but it was not as if she could escape the fact that it sounded like a stupid concept. _I think of ways we can do things. Sometimes they're stupid, but there's not a lot else I can do._

While most of the girls in her last few classes were off to Hogsmeade, or London, though it was very much not the weekend, she found herself outside, staring at the Black Lake. She knew it was cold outside from the frost on the grass, but for some reason she did not feel cold. _Perks of having a thick hide, I suppose._

"We reckon it's got something to do with that big pond over there, and all because it's got mermaids in it, right?" Ron asked as he appeared. The French wizard was not with him. _I suppose he gave it a shot._ "Thing is, I got it off Hagrid that some of them speak the Queen's English."

"Did you just act like you were interested in selkies?" she asked. _Looking back on it, that would have been best._

"Didn't think of it. Got to talking about mermaids and whatnot because he was excited about the next Task, 'not gonna be as good as the las', mark me', and I asked if he happened to speak Mermish." _Hagrid might have been willing to cheat and help Cedric, since it would really be helping us, though I hardly know him, at least compared to the others._ The first few words she had exchanged with the massive teacher were about dementors, because she had been hoping they would be the key to restoring Neville's sanity at the time, though more recently they discussed werewolves. _Who knows, he might just think I really am interested._

As she uncertainly followed the red-haired wizard to the lake, she wondered not for the first time where Neville's personal tutor had gone, though she was still not entirely sad not to see her, though not because she was in the way. _It's not his fault, or it's not all his fault, but I just can't ignore all the problems. Besides..._ Ron was removing an outer layer, staring at the black water.

"Are you mad? You'll catch cold! Secondly, if this is some kind of-"

"Thought about it. Hermione hit me with a warming charm an hour ago. I'd have asked her to get you too, but then I didn't have enough Gillyweed from Neville, so I'd have to do it alone anyway."

"Gillyweed?"

"Can't talk underwater if you can't breathe underwater. I asked him to look into it as soon as I knew about the merpeople."

"How did you know there was a plant-"

"Hermione mentioned it when she was talking about all the different plants with tentacles. Couldn't remember the name or how long it was meant to work, but Neville filled in the details." Hannah frowned as he spoke.

"And you did all this without telling me?"

"Thought Neville might have let you know. Aren't you still talking?" he asked as he removed his shirt. _This is getting weird._

"No." _He would probably just be afraid of the fact that I'm a werewolf. That, or he lets it slip._ "Give me half of that plant thing. We'll be able to search faster together."

"Oh, but Hannah, it's just going to be so dreadfully cold-"

"I haven't been cold in months and it's almost Christmas," she explained, hoping not to have to use the word. _Why am I doing this?_ Doubts aside, she took the plant and forced it down her throat, swallowing its wriggling mass.

The pair of them slowly waded forward until Hannah bit the bullet and left her cloak on the grass, deciding she would only be tied up underwater with something so loose around her. _I doubt this was all just Ron trying to see how much I would take off, but if it is, he'll have to be disappointed._ Ahead of her, the wizard started to choke and writhe, as she felt the same gills forming on her own neck. Shouting, they hurried up and dove into deeper water, eyes adjusting as they were at last submerged.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Reckon that's how a damn goldfish feels out of water," he decided, the bubbles around his head floating to the surface. The witch and wizard adjusted, swimming into deeper water, though Ron was inclined to encourage the kelp out of the way with the blasting curse. Selkies surrounded them rather quickly, though they were not entirely talkative, as they did not seem to respond to questions. "Might as well keep looking," Ron decided at length, swimming off into deeper water. _I suppose some of the merpeople might be more inclined to tell us something._

"We probably should not be using spells while we're down here," the blonde witch said quietly. "Hermione says they can't carry wands."

"Damn, now we've got to worry about offending them," he muttered without looking back. _Small mercies, I suppose. I'm still going to be soaked to the skin when we get out._ In addition, she was shivering, as it turned out the deeper regions of the lake were colder than she had thought. _Great- I don't need a jumper when it's chilly outside, but I can't just survive arctic temperatures without feeling it._

The deepest point in the lake, at least as far as it seemed they could go down was pitch black, requiring the use of a light charm, though that neither helped a great deal nor was likely to please the selkies. At last they managed to spot something, pointing at it together.

Whatever the structure was, it had been constructed by the merpeople, and there were several smaller structures around it. Getting closer, it seemed anthropomorphic, and was almost certainly a merman, though she could think of a few other things the murky image might actually be. _We should not have come at night- some of these people are trying to sleep._ She had a mental image of a mermaid hitting her ceiling with the butt of her spear.

"How much time do we have?" she asked, looking around for something obvious, apart from the statue.

"Can't be more than an hour," he responded, nearly shouting, though his words remained indistinct. "Never thought they had houses and whatnot down here. Reckon they're going to want to keep the champions away from them."

"The statue, then."

"Yeah, but what are they going to do with it, steal it?" He shook his head. "There are a million things they could have to do down here." _There are more than that- they could fight to the death, they could fight the merpeople-_ "The best I can think of doing is marking it so Cedric can see it."

"How do we keep the others from seeing it?" she asked as she put a ward on the base of the statue. _It seems like a few spells really don't work underwater. I imagine the fire charm would be to little effect._ "All I can think of is a light ward."

"We can't. It'll just have to be something he notices because he knows he needs to look for it." Even when he was right next to her, communicating proved difficult.

"I know," Hannah decided, putting a water ward down on the lakebed, moving loose earth over it with the levitation charm. "I'll tell you when we get up."

They swam to the surface, then back the way they came.

"What's that ward, then?"

"It's a jet of water, so the selkies won't mind." _I hope._ "It'll kick up all the loose dirt at the bottom of the lake, and it'll disguise the light ward until he's on top of it. We can put other light wards in different places." she suggested at last. _I don't know how to make them different colors or anything._ She felt the gills on her neck contracting. _It might get a bit harder to swim soon._

"I'll have to find a chance to talk to him." Ron managed as he swam. _I guess he's been in a lake before. There was supposed to be one close to his house._

The pair of them made it to shore, and she hit the Gryffindor with a drying charm, though he took the opportunity to have a look before drying her off, and she went red, hitting him with a stinging hex as he put his shirt back on.

"I was trying to be nice, you know."

"Really, then? You weren't just distracted?"

"Oh, come off it," she groaned, turning toward the castle. Her mother had told her in no uncertain terms that this was how most guys were at her age, and apparently it applied to wizards as well. _At least he doesn't bother me about what I'm wearing to the ball._ "Oh, are you going to the ball?"

"Wasn't planning on it. When is that?"

"Christmas day, I believe."

Ron made a confused expression.

"Bloody hell, the very idea someone's got nothing better to do on Christmas than go to a damn dance..." he trailed off, the thought's completion unnecessary. It made her laugh. _I don't even know why that's funny; it's just the kind of thing he would say._

Dry but still cold, they went inside and set off in the direction of the mysterious room. _No teachers... that's odd._

"What d'you reckon they did with the ship that was in the lake?"

"They probably told the students to move it," Hannah answered, scowling. _That's going to tell them where to look if nothing else does._

"Actually, we moved it shortly after the term started," a voice from behind explained. The two Hogwarts students whirled around, wands out, to find themselves looking at three guests. A bigger wizard from Durmstrang made a wand motion, creating a waving circle of light around her and Ron. He had brought two companions, though they had not drawn. "Your herb witch will be taking the evening off. For attempting to undermine the competition, you may take-"

" _Protego!_ " the red-haired wizard shouted, encircling them with a shield inside whatever construct their opponent had made. Unable to cast spells out, the blonde witch hastily laid down runes, forming the ice ward Hermione had shown her as the circle of light crashed into the shield amid the other spells. _I cannot deny we were cheating- but to think they attacked a staff member-_

"Run!" she shouted as the shield broke, her instruction unnecessary. Her wand was removed from her hand by some kind of howling wind, but she activated the ward all the same, trapping two of their pursuers as Ron threw her wand back to her, deflecting a curse from the larger wizard, whose next curse went at her. She attempted to dodge, but instead found herself seizing with electricity, falling to the ground as Ron hit their opponent with a body-bind.

" _Mobilicorpus,_ " he cast, making her body fluid enough that she could get to her feet as he unlocked a broom closet from a range. She summoned her wand like Terry showed her, but had to grab it as it almost flew past her.

" _Accio broom!_ " she managed as the Gryffindor put up another shield charm and grabbed the broom. _That's twice we owe our lives to Hermione._

"Might have backup somewhere-" he guessed as they boarded and flew. "Brilliant with that warding, there." They ducked under an arch as he climbed through the stairwell, swerving past a moving set of stairs.

"Oh, no, you were bril- I don't think I could have fought off even two of them on my own," she decided, imagining different ways the encounter could have concluded with her arms around him. _That's once I owe my life to a damn drying spell._

"Come off it, Hannah, you could've scrubbed the floor with them if it were the appropriate night." She glowered, remembering her brief talk with Professor Lupin. Out of distrust, she had never asked Snape to brew a potion for her, especially since there was a chance he was a Death Eater, and instead relied on the chains. Fortunately, silver was plentiful enough in the wizarding world, so they would be easy to replace in the unlikely event they broke or she lost them. The werewolf asked her if she would take something he would take, though in her most honest opinion he should also not take it. "Sorry," he said, reddening as the door to the mysterious room opened.

"It's alright. I suppose I should learn to laugh about it." She thought back to their 'date' in Hogsmeade, if it could be called that. Susan, gigglingly, if that was a word, had told her to avoid Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, though that was no guarantee they would not be seen. _She still thinks I was just being nice to some bloke to help him work up the nerve to ask me to the ball._

"Are you alright?" he asked. The pair of them had ended up going to The Three Broomsticks, though they talked more about the conflict than each other. All the same, she felt she had learned a fair bit about the red-haired wizard. He was caring, for one, though a sense of malice belied this trait to those who did not look closely. _He also has more than enough nerve._

"I'm fine, thank-"

He pulled her in as she felt her own arms go around his back, the most natural feeling in the world. Perhaps it was nothing more than the absence of immediate danger, but the feeling of security made her nearly lose her footing. All of a sudden it felt like they were perfectly alone, alone together. Still holding it, she dropped her wand as they went to the ground, their lips locking together. The discomfort of the hard floor was easily ignored in the warmth and excitement as their hands moved, one set more ambitiously than the other. Clawing voices in the back of her mind begged to be heard as she undid a single button.

They stopped dead at the sound of feet going up the stairs, or perhaps back up the stairs. _We're idiots we're idi- please, please don't be Hermione-_ Her thoughts jumbled as she called out, the words not important to her. The next few moments were a blur as they found Mafalda, curled up in a ball on the landing of the narrow staircase. _We're idiots._

She sunk to the floor of the landing, reaching out as Ron could be heard muttering 'Bloody hell, sorry 'bout that, hen. Reckon we might've knocked.'

_Why is it always something? Why can't I ever..._


	18. In a Tall, Dark Shadow

Draco completed his potion without particular haste, ignoring the mostly undue praise from Professor Slughorn. The man was a Slytherin, to be sure, but he was not a true blood purist, nor did he support the Death Eaters. With the return of Voldemort, he had nearly gone into hiding, though one of Dumbledore's final acts had been to persuade the Potions master to at least leave the possibility open. _He pays his debts, as a noble should, but what does he owe Hogwarts? His family is of little note, if any._

Parkinson was talking with Bulstrode behind his back about the ball, and he hoped that neither of them would be too desperate, as it would be unbecoming of a vassal, but they were only gossiping about Evan and his prospects. Apparently there were plenty of witches from notable families who were essentially hanging around him waiting to be asked, including Tracey, much to their chagrin, though he had not given any indication of awareness that the ball existed. _They forget he is a half-blood, most likely raised far from wizarding society. He would probably accept an offer from the first reasonably attractive witch who asked him._ He had informed Padma of his suspicions, and she suggested that to maintain appearances, a witch of station would do well to ask him in private, the better to keep anyone else from realizing. With an expression of discomfort, she revealed that she had not suggested this to him, nor did she know of any intent to go to the ball.

"Regrettably for him, it is required for champions, and more importantly, it is a time-honored tradition," Draco had said. "For any witch who wishes to accompany him, I would strongly recommend a good shield charm and a refined sense of humor. Leave finding him on his own to me."

That Evan was a solitary, but not entirely reclusive sort was no secret, but his preferred haunts were so because they were little traveled. Perhaps it was the same with the Dark Lord, locking himself inside the well-stocked and furnished alchemical laboratories of his moneyed allies for weeks on end, when not kidnapping muggles to use as test subjects for monstrous transformation curses and potions. _The challenge will not be finding him on his own, but persuading him to at least pretend to go along with the plan._

Hearing from Crabbe that the Heir of Slytherin had taken to dueling practice with him, Goyle, and some of the vassals, he decided to catch him between bouts that evening.

After supper concluded, and Christmas holiday had truly begun, he found the young wizards dueling in an abandoned classroom, right on schedule. _I should have assumed as much. Keeping a schedule is essential if you intend to manage practice and assignments. Without classes, however, I expect the regimen to be quite Spartan._

Evan was dueling Crabbe and Goyle at the same time, though it was apparent to the spectators and the other duelists how this would end. His henchmen had grown substantially in their abilities, and dueling could be said to be their main purpose, but neither of them could completely defeat a dragon with a handful of spells.

"I suppose I should thank you for leaving my bannermen alive, Evan," Draco jested, entering the ring of desks as they were dragged out.

"They are skilled enough to be useful, and I do not waste magical blood." _I would hope not. It would be a true wind of fortune for you to be a true purist, unlike your master._ At the same time, there was the matter that the joke of the scion of Malfoy had fallen flat.

"I may have a matter to discuss with you," he said, drawing as he saw Evan's wand was still out.

"We shall duel first, old ally. I would see how your abilities have improved."

They bowed.

His expert shielding blocked perhaps two curses as he shot a jet of water over it, hoping to throw off his opponent's vision. _Dark curses and conjurations are his specialty- so much as one hit may well end the duel._ The shield cracked with a blind curse, a gray flash of light that he might have recognized, though it did not matter. Taking advantage of the water hitting his opponent, Draco cast a stunner, but Evan's shield, a red circle of symbols, blocked the spell and reversed it, forcing him onto the back foot. Reaching out with his mind as he deflected a curse, he could see where each spell was pointed a moment before it was cast, allowing him to evade rather than block, saving enough time to hit his opponent with a disarm.

Evan's wand clattered to the ground.

Draco had already severed the mental connection, but he contained his expression as he offered a respectful nod. _It was a truly impressive display. Were he a better occlumens, I suspect I would not have defeated him._

As the practice concluded, he succeeded in having the word he desired.

"I see that there remains one of our numbers who can remind you that you are not unequivocally the greatest wizard in the world," he taunted, none of the tone present. He liked to think Slytherins were somewhat more subtle with their ribbing. "Perhaps the Dark Lord should not yet quiver in fear."

The Heir scowled.

"I should think that even in jest you would be more conscious of your words. Your having bested me the one time is no surprise, nor any great offense. I suggest you refrain from allowing to swell your head, Malfoy. Without an extension charm, yours can only contain so much pomp and _noblesse oblige._ "

"Such is a matter of a stout heart, mind," Draco corrected, unwilling to let it by. "Perhaps, though, our dueling for today can be left in the arena, and the customs of magical society be allowed to drain from my head, the better to pour out on you," Evan's eyes narrowed. "You require a date for the ball."

"Were I to deign-"

"I am afraid that all three schools would enforce your appearance at the meaningless affair. Pay it no mind, you need not stay until dawn. All the same, the Lord Voldemort did not reach his current status by flaunting such formalities entirely. Who knows, you may yet find a suitable mate. I believe Miss Davis is interested in dark magic, as well as the subjugation of Britain by force." _Putting a vassal this close to him would be invaluable._

In truth, he more fervently hoped that his distant friend would not turn out the same way as his master, alone in some dungeon and ignoring the world entire. If he had the same intent to never die, he supposed procreation would make less sense than normal, though the older Draco became the more he found himself both confused and put off by the Dark Lord and his lack of willingness to take a dark lady. _All the dark magic will get to you eventually, though there are other explanations._

"My master has never concerned himself with witches, nor did he for my sake."

"Perhaps, then, there are things he does not want for you," the Malfoy heir ventured, staring down the corridor rather than looking at Evan. "Remember, of course, that the Lord Voldemort does not concern himself with the welfare of others."

"Lesser wizards may so waste their time."

"Nor, as it has happened, has he allowed his subordinates to catch up to him. Rather, I would venture he jealously guards his position at the top, and if anything, he would attempt to prevent a student from his from gaining power." The long-haired boy's eyes narrowed, though not in his direction. "You have the chance to make quite the impression on the wizarding world in this Tournament, and as Parkinson will tell you, the ball is part."

"Miss Davis, whatever her given name is, may duel with me, and I shall decide after that," the dark wizard decided, his tone cooling. "Were you to send for the appropriate raiment, I would be reasonably grateful." _Send for it- Merlin, have you ever been to a tailor before?_

"I believe what would be more helpful in the long term is an introduction to a luxury tailor, something with which a wizard of means should be familiar. I remind you that we have the same master, though as a measure of amicable advice only one of us appears to be approaching his teachings and intentions with an appropriate degree of suspicion."

Evan exhaled deeply, taking his turn to stare into nothing, and the last of his scowl faded.

"I shall consider your words carefully, Malfoy. For now, I believe you have your own matters to attend."

"So I do. See that you are not beaten by Tracey." There was no response. "You will want to call Miss Davis by her given name."

For all his efforts, it appeared Draco would not succeed in making pompous banter with Evan, which was a shame, as he considered no one else in Hogwarts his equal, and he could not be seen to be joking with his inferiors. That very morning he had run into Bole, who narrowly avoided being expelled for being involved with Umbridge the previous year, and it appeared he had received a howler from his father for that very matter.

"We're not meant to be protecting mudbloods, Malfoy."

"I should think we are hardly giving it our best efforts. If I remember my own orders correctly, the vassals were to patrol the dungeon corridors and the lower floors, creating a manner of 'safe zone' around the entrance to the Slytherin common room. If the mudbloods were protected under our sphere of influence, they are either rare mudsnakes or they are from other Houses, cowering around our own because they have learned where the real threat is."

"My father does not see it this way. He knows we are making no effort to exclude the lower blood quanta from our protection. They are stealing magic, and they must be punished-"

"Bole, keep it down," he remembered urging, refraining from looking around like an idiot. "It's been proven false." He sighed. "It's something Cantankerus Nott theorized a hundred years ago, and because it was never seriously entertained, it was never publicly refuted. There are... there are families who know little of the methods and meanings of blood purism, and take little stock in argument or truth, only force and numbers."

"My father is one of them, then?" _Perhaps he is challenging me._

"Either he is one of them or he has been influenced by them. The mudbloods may betray us, but as we make no effort to protect them, we make no effort to exclude them. As the central problem with their existence in Hogwarts is their loyalties, not their falsified bloodlines, when they come to hide under our wings their loyalties will change."

If the inactive Beater was convinced by his argument, he for once gave no sign.

 _Shall we always be haunted by our past mistakes?_ To ask a blood traitor, he expected this would be fuel for mockery about how the purists spend too much time hearkening back to the past, glorifying it for what it was not and ignoring all of the longstanding problems that had been preserved through tradition. In error, they were traitors in the truest possible sense, that they rejected all of the truths passed down from their ancestors, the very fabric of society as it had been. Pure bloods who opposed blood purism saw magic only as a tool, a convenience even, fit for washing clothes and putting things in order. _One can only wonder why they believe we have elves. Our energies, our very magical abilities have better purposes than keeping house._

_And so dissent begins in the rank._

Alone in the common room save a pair of younger witches discussing some inane thing, he presumed, ideas began to form about where the loyalties were lying among the vassals. It was not the simple matter of being loyal to the Dark Lord or purism itself, as it had been when they were only discussing ideas, now there were the complicated array of familial loyalties that every member seemed to have, the ties that would have to be redefined or severed entirely in the event of war. _To think there are Slytherins with muggle family members- even a parent, here and there. I continue to wonder if Creevey is some lost Death Eater's son, but his continued failure seems harder to believe under such unexpected circumstances._

A handful of words caught his ear, and the girls noticed his head turning to the sound. They turned away. _A pity they do not but know the muffling charm. Perhaps I shall have Nott show them. I should rather like the other members of my House to fall into a false sense of security, as I shall hear their whispers all the same, provided I am close enough and they do not occlude their minds._ Learning the art of Legilimency, or the most basic form of it, represented much of the summer, and much of the time he spent in the company of his father. Presently, it lent an opportunity to satisfy whatever small curiosity irked him.

" _Please, we can't tell anyone about this,_ " one was saying. " _It's better if we just forget her. She was of a low blood quantum, and there were the signs of disloyalty._ " The witch spoke with the voice of high birth.

" _If we don't tell anyone, she's going to go to the other side and tell everyone. When it gets back around that we did nothing-"_

 _"No, don't you see? This is what I've been telling you- it's not going to_ get _back around. Society is collapsing- there aren't battles in the streets yet, but there will be. When the dogs of war are barking, no one will hear the voice of one first-year, whether it is hers or one of ours. What we have to do is protect ourselves."_

_"We can only protect ourselves by taking sides with the people who are going to win. That's why we have to come clean. If we come clean, the other side-"_

Draco sighed internally. _Defectors- after all I've done to protect them. At least they rehearsed their traitorous arguments. Which of my vassals was responsible for this failure, I wonder._ He rose, looking around and seeing Nott walk in.

"Nott, have you heard anything of a first-year Slytherin suffering an attack?" he asked, waiting for the younger students to jump.

"I don't believe I have, Malfoy, yet there seems to be someone who can answer your question." Both of their pairs of eyes turned to the girls, first or second-years, probably.

"We- we thought you knew and if we reported it-"

"Shut up, Cassie, shut-"

" _Silencio._ Do continue, Cassie. Who was harmed and where?" he asked laconically. The witch grimaced as her friend found herself unable to speak.

"We take these reports with the ultimate height of seriousness," Nott supplied. _Seriousness and malice, I might add._

"We- well, we don't know where it was, and the witch, well, we don't know her all that-"

"Tell us what you know," Nott suggested, probably refraining from drawing his wand. _The Cruciatus is not the only way to get information out._

"Her name is Mafalda- I wasn't paying attention when-"

"I know of her. How do you know she was attacked?" _Here, the essential question- it always tells us more than anything else we ask._

"She, well, she came into the dormitory crying," the witch explained. "She didn't tell us everything that happened to her, but her clothes were damaged and- and-" Tears interrupted the recollection. Though Nott made a face, he was hardly stupid enough to intimidate the information source. "She said it was the wizards in our year." _Fitting. I would find it hard to believe had she told of seventh-years up to the same tricks._

"Did she manage to identify their House?" Draco asked, his vassal's patience returning somewhat. It was hardly a question, as students wore their robes a significant portion of the time, and the classes were not exactly large. _Families that have been supplying Hogwarts for centuries have begun to feel the limits of the carrying capacity. The Weasleys are the only blood traitors who fail to realize the necessity of keeping our numbers down, country bumpkins though they may be._

"Well-"

He raised a hand, deterring whatever question or death threat would have come from Nott, though only because he recognized the faintest expression under the blank face the young witch was wearing, one of petrifying fear. A quick look at the surface thoughts confirmed the worst of his suspicions.

"Slytherin, then," he decided, only half-hearing his vassal say he would rally the troops and see what Bole's younger years knew. It was his turn to scowl, but he decided against it. _As if the winds of fortune themselves have conspired against me, I shall now divide my vassals by pitting them against each other, or at least other members of our noble House._ He allowed the ghost of a sneer as the young witches left him alone. _The Dark Lord would have no similar trouble with dissent. The slightest hint of disloyalty to him would be met with immediate destruction. Father could never but estimate the volumetric quantity of pure blood spilled to preserve the fearful silence._ _I cannot help but be concerned for Evan when he returns to the direct control of the Lord Voldemort, wherever in Durmstrang he is._

Draco's eyes widened involuntarily. He had, of course, confided in his father his suspicions of the location of their master, as well as his reasoning, but no further note was made of it. His suspicions overrode themselves as he stopped to consider the essential question- if the Dark Lord was a member of the foreign school's staff, would he pass up the opportunity to return to Britain, placing himself amid the children of his followers? Which form would he take?

_This may be an interesting ball yet._


	19. Interlude: Dark Wizards

Wahde waited by the deep pool, staring into its murky depths. Charlie had told her that he would have liked to use the information they had immediately, but both of them knew there was little to be gained and plenty to be lost.

Firstly, the former student they captured might have been some kind of decoy, disguised by a potion, or an unrelated runaway from the war about to take hold in Britain. His identity and his connection to the others had to be verified, and some kind of plan had to be formulated. Finding him had been their only break in over a year, and it was quite possible they would not get another chance. More disappointingly, both she and the English wizard had jobs to do, and both of them were painfully aware that none of the targets of their search would go anywhere, and would most likely be perfectly safe. _It is easy for him to say this of his sister. His only concern is that she is safe, but my brother languishes in bondage._ She frowned to herself. If she had asked anyone in school, most of them would have said they had troubles with their own family members, and if she were being fair, that was reasonably likely. As such, it was not as if she had anyone more helpful than Charlie. Her own parents continued to deny he was even missing, and would say he was on one of his odd jobs again.

"Charlie," she said, hearing him approach her position. _It could be no one else._

The wizard carried himself with an odd confidence for the care the operation mandated.

"We can't just fly over all of the traps in there," he said at length. The two of them had heard much about the defenses that the illustrious 'Anthony' had established, each less moderate than the last, the dream of a hyper-rationalist. According to the captive, there would likely be more defenses since his successful invasion of the hideout, and even more than that since his disappearance.

"I would not think we could," Wahde responded. "The question is- what can we do?" _According to Smith, they came by means of a portkey. If they want security, they will have learned to make portkeys on their own. Even if their base is discovered and they are surrounded, they will always have a way out._

"There's a curse that Bill showed me, should make it impossible for them to flee. On a limited supply of food, I reckon they'll do the smart thing and come out fighting. If they do that, we'll just stun them and be done with it," he explained as he looked around for the hiding place. Smith had described its location as well as how to find it, but apparently he had needed some basic sense of the mind arts to do it himself. Since then it had been he who was responsible for going out and gathering supplies or whatever the rest of them needed. _I suspect only now they run into the problems of a child who has run away from home. They would have planned before leaving, but they are still young. There is so much they do not understand._

Managing to find the entrance with a footprint revealing spell, which seemed like a helpful thing to remember, Charlie began to work on the curse, which seemed to be a few layers of Words of Death.

"That sounds like an Egyptian..." she trailed off, thinking of something she had seen in school.

"Bill works in Giza, last I checked. You got classmates from Egypt?" he asked as he placed another enchantment. "They don't have their own school or anything?"

"It was part of an agreement," the witch answered, keeping most of the resentment out of her voice. "We could not have too many schools, or the do-no-magics would see, sooner or later. People keep saying we should just bend the land and water and sky, but we cannot live apart from nature. Your sister and her friends have been doing themselves harm."

The wizard grimaced, probably in silent agreement. It was something that they had learned in Beasts of Magic- all living things with some magical ability, from the most harmless of plants to the dragons and giants and wizards required natural land to survive. This was the reason magical schools were concealed and the nonmagical were repelled by warding, rather than simply being put in a small, invisible box. It was not as if the magical drew power from nature directly, though there were exceptions, but they existed as part of a complex ecosystem the greatest minds in the world were only beginning to understand.

"Enchantments are done. Anybody else have a small school?"

"There are a few, but all magical lands send someone to Uagadou," she responded, readying her wand. _It is only through them we know of the other schools._ Going through the plan in her mind, she transfigured a measure of earth into a silver spearhead she could levitate. It was doubtful the former students commanded werewolves or anything of the like, but it never hurt to be prepared.

As the pair of them entered, Charlie extended the entrance while she concealed their presence, waving her wand to summon her own shadow that it would run out ahead of her. Charming her ears to resemble those of a rhinoceros, she picked up several different sounds inside, different types of sound, even.

"They still have the Erumpents," she observed quietly, sitting still as she listened.

"Yet I begin to suspect we can't just fly over them."

"No. They now have a dragon."

A most bizarre grin formed on the face of the red-haired wizard.

"A dragon? If I knew it would be this easy, I wouldn't have brought you."

Wahde frowned as she followed him in, hoping to see the results of his confidence, whether good or ill, and some part of her preferred the latter. _How do they get the dragon inside? Dragons are rare in Africa, especially around here._ It was likely the occupants knew they had entered, but their only option would be fighting, as Charlie was sealing the entrance, the last possible means of escape.

"Greetings, intruders!" a loud voice rang out, making her jump slightly. "As you can see, your way is completely prevented. I would not recommend flying, and you will find approaching on foot to be quite impossible. I warn you, we outnumber you and we would not hesitate to attack you if you made it through."

"They're... reasoning with us?" the wizard asked.

"That is not what I expected," the witch muttered. _Perhaps, though, I should have. A reasonable wizard would be willing to negotiate._ "Release my brother and Ginny and we shall be gone!" she called out, not expecting it to work.

"Regrettably, the pair of them know too much about the rest of our operations," Anthony argued. In truth, she had never heard his voice before, but there was no one else it could be. _If what Charlie told me of Harper is true, he usually stays quiet. It is possible he is simply not the leader, it is possible he is afraid to speak, but I do not know._ "For this reason, I have your brother under the effects of a curse that I can use to kill him at any time, though I believe you know that. I strongly suggest you turn around and be on your way."

Wahde's eyes widened. She had known there was a reason he could not leave on his own, and that he would probably die if he attempted to escape, but there was no help she could offer, nothing she could do if he was cursed in such a manner.

"Yes, yes, you're beginning to see what your real options are here. There is no option where your brother can breathe free again," the voice explained. "Therefore, you may leave him to me, or you may bury him like I buried my mother. The Death Eaters are responsible for this, not me. They will win the war if nothing changes, and it left me with the choice of leaving or dying."

Looking over at Charlie, he seemed angry enough, but was not responding to the former student's words. Instead he was casting a strange charm on himself, and on her, and quickly the pair of them became almost entirely invisible.

"Are you sure he can't see us?"

"The dragon can. I'll take care of it, you go after him. Even if he knows I'm dealing with the dragon, he won't give up his one bargaining chip until we're right on top of him." Wahde nodded, keeping silent to get past the Erumpents as her partner shouted that they could dissuade her, but not him. Flying over them was the obvious choice, but it would be the wizard who would make better use of the broom, and she had learned about the beasts in school. _They will not perceive me as a threat to the herd if I stay away from the calves. If even one of them makes note of my location, Anthony will know._

Glancing above her position against her better judgement, she wondered if Charlie was half so concerned about their opponent's other bargaining chip, but he had reason for his confidence yet again. It was her understanding that Ginny was as much a part of their operation as anyone else, and the other two were not going to just kill her if given the choice between that and returning her, since it would only guarantee their deaths, and there was some reason to doubt it would be so easy to accomplish. _Anthony issued no direct threat to her life. She is closer to him than we are, I assume._

The wizard was faring somewhat worse with the dragon than she was with the beasts, but she supposed it was possible he had no intention of defeating or getting past it, since doing so would escalate the situation immediately. _He is counting on me to get inside._

Once inside, there was only one thing to do.

It had been argued at length, and there was essentially no way around it, but she would have to kill Anthony. Though he was around two years younger than she was, and she had been willing to consider other possibilities, she had long since been mentally prepared for it, running through her brother's words again in her mind.

_I died as a prisoner, not a slave._

After the Erumpents, she faced a circle of enchantments on the ground, though she expected not all of them were visible; it was the oldest trick in the book. As waving her wand over them failed to reveal any more, she shrugged and raised the earth from under them, lowering it again quickly enough. _They might have seen that despite Charlie flying around with a dragon. I doubt it._

It seemed the trick of raising the earth worked, as the warding had the classic fragility of an inexperienced enchanter, layering more and more of them rather than spending the time to have one that worked well. _They are here because they think they do not need school._ Creeping up on the base itself, she could feel herself growing warmer, and threw out a deep pool spell between herself and the base, causing a hissing sound of invisible fire meeting the water. _Damn- they will hear it for sure- yet I press on. Even if they see me, they will not escape._ She would have to hope her partner's confidence was well-founded.

Above her she could hear him cast what sounded like a hundred spells, each fading quickly in and quickly out, flying about as he was. _It is starting to seem as if he has some experience with dragons. I suppose they should have considered this before using the most feared magical beast of all time as their air support._

The physical traps of Wah's unmistakable design were easy enough to pass without being set off, which she expected had not been considered at the time they were placed. Anthony could threaten to kill her brother at any time, but there was hardly any reason to do that just to get it out of him that he has a sister looking to get him back. It seemed more likely that he would simply freely give any information that his master wanted, holding back anything he felt like holding back, since no one would know the difference.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " The spell came from a first floor window on the side of the base, but it missed. _I suppose being hard to see helps. I must learn this charm._ From what she could work out as she answered it with a dream curse she learned from a shaman, the caster was a wizard, but probably not the leader. He hit the ground with a thud, which she hoped was not overly loud, but there was nothing for it; she knew no spell to slow his fall, and she could hardly catch him as she was getting in through the window. Stepping over the sleeping body, she considered setting it on fire, but for the moment there was no point, and it would only draw attention to her position. A red-headed witch ran down the stairs to meet her, wand out. _So much for not drawing attention to-_

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " she screamed, likely panicked and naïve rather than malicious, but ill-fated all the same. Wahde avoided the easily recognizable curse and responded with the same Bantu dream curse she had used, but the former student leaped mostly out of the way, leading back up the stairs. _I suspect she has little combat experience._ A graze would mean she would fall asleep, but not immediately. It was not as if Liberian witches fought for their lives on a daily basis, but a few years at Uagadou would teach most students how to fight, if not in classes. _War is part of our lives, or it has been for long enough._ Looking out the window in response to a great roar, it seemed the dragon was entirely restrained in magical chains, falling slowly to the ground. _Let us hope the Erumpents are kind. The flying beast is fearsome, but enough of them can kill it on the ground._

Wahde crept carefully up the stairs, noting that the witch she presumed to be Ginny had made it a fair bit before passing out, but Anthony had not noticed her, staring out the window as he was. _He sees the spectacle, but not what is coming to kill him._ _Perhaps it is not his fault, as we are both cloaked._ She caught sight of Wah, dressed in fine Western robes, but if he noticed any motion in her direction, he did not respond. _That makes sense, though. What does not is his expression._

The African wizard was sweating, staring unblinkingly forward, though if he saw anything it was as invisible to her as she was to him.

As the dragon landed outside, Anthony's head whipped around to his bound captive, putting a wand to his throat from a few paces away.

"I did warn them, you know," he started, looking around the room and seeing the collapsed form of Ginny. "I suppose she didn't just up and kill herself? The only reasonable thing to conclude is that your sister was responsible, meaning she has violated the deal I proposed. Unfortunately for you, there will be no choices you do not like to make, but you will not die, unless for any reason I am attacked. _Imperio!_ " Wah's body seized a moment before he appeared to collect himself. "Search the base and kill your sister." he ordered, the sound of Charlie's broom rushing to the window nearly drowning him out. "As always, I have been left with no-"

"Not really," the red-haired wizard said as he came in, throwing up a shield to block a curse from Anthony. "Practicing dark magic, then? I guess that's something you can't learn in school. Trouble is, I've been at it longer than you." Waving his wand, the younger wizard lost his own. "Been thinking about it; your problem isn't really not having options, it's being a bloody coward." Anthony went for his wand, but it flew across the floor. _I should be more concerned with-_ Wahde moved to avoid touching her puppeted brother, as slowly as possible so as to not be noticed as he searched. She was too far from the young wizard to kill him without risking hitting anyone else, and Charlie seemed to have things well in hand. _Kill him. Do not waste time with words._

The next few moments were a blur.

As she tried to cast a lethal curse at Anthony, a concussive force like the charge of an elephant, Wah grabbed her arm unexpectedly, turning her wand to the unconscious Ginny, who was immediately crushed in a manner that might have made her retch if her organs could be sure they were still attached. Charlie ran forward and physically beat Anthony, but found himself repelled by an unknown force. _The other one- downstairs-_ The younger wizard made a face as he wiped the blood off his mouth, seeing her wand turn toward him from the motion blur. He raised a hand, causing her brother to seize violently, and she realized she was screaming as he fell and she caught him and Anthony had his wand back and he was gone, a few words of an unknown, but familiar voice hanging in the air.

It could not have been more than thirty seconds that passed when everything fell apart. Charlie's guttural roar drowned out her hoarse moan and his anger overtook him as he vowed to tear the place apart until he found something indicating where he might have gone.

Perhaps he could not find what he was looking for because all he saw was red, perhaps not. Wahde picked up a short staff, or a piece of wood that was being carved into one, and showed it to him.

"I have an idea," she started, forcing the words out. "There is a wizard named Said at Uagadou. He is from Egypt, but all of the men of the north are friends of his."

"They have something to do with this?" Charlie growled.

"The north is where we must go."


	20. Rendezvous Point

The ball had been alright, all things considered. He and Hannah did not stay long, there were drinks, it was a bit interesting to see who everyone else took, and his guilt and embarrassment were mitigated by a small measure, to where he could look at himself in the mirror a minute. He learned that Seamus and Lavender were going to a broom closet or something, really whatever was available, though that was Seamus boasting about it with a maudlin gleam, so it might have been exaggerated.

The truth of it was, he had only asked Hannah to the ball because a few days ago she nervously told him that she had told Hermione that he had already done it. It was really the least he could do to make her statement a half-truth. Neither of their Ravenclaw friends had shown up, which was fine by him, but it only meant they were working on something. Were he to hazard a guess, the only students who went were those who wanted to distract themselves from everything that was going on, though there were quite a number of them and it still made for a good ball. He took the chance to thank Capet for telling him a few things about merpeople.

The ball ended and he trudged back with his date, who might have been thanking him for going along with her deception. _Well, I reckon it's the least I can do._ They arrived at the mysterious room, which Hermione had learned was called the Room of Requirement. _Not about to start calling it something else._

"You alright?" he asked, throwing off the outer layer of his traditional dress robes. _I'm burning this shit._

"Oh!" she started, biting her lip a moment. "Are we..."

"Prob'ly not. No idea where Mafalda is," he said as he collapsed on the couch. "Couldn't tell you where to find Hermione or Terry either."

The Hufflepuff witch hesitantly sat down next to him.

"Then... I guess we're going to have that talk that we don't want to have."

"Reckon we are. _Muffliato._ " _Should've thought of that last time._

"What are we going to tell her?"

"The Slytherin? I mean, she didn't see much, did she? I guess she's just going to have flashbacks and nightmares and whatnot for a while, but I'd feel bad if she grew up afraid of that sort of thing, especially if it was our fault. I mean, can't she tell the difference?"

Hannah gave a sad smile.

"I wish it were that simple. I imagine the slightest thing would remind her of being hurt like that, whether it's someone bringing it up, something similar happening to someone else, or even... what we were doing."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her... that I liked you and I was okay with what we were doing." She sighed. "It was kind of hard to get the words out. I didn't have a lot of time to sort out my feelings... and everything was catching up to me. I felt guilty for not checking if she was around, and well, it didn't bear thinking about just dropping to the floor like some kind of... animal. I was embarrassed. It would have been so much easier to say you did it, or it was some sort of misunderstanding, or we were both imperiused, or really anything else."

"Fact that we were on the floor prob'ly didn't help."

The blonde witch laughed, though it was probably because she had not heard too many jokes recently. He had not either, and he might have just ignored them, so full was his mind with a constant unease, but he would not have known. Truth be told, he had started to respond to Dean's humor more, though it was more mean-spirited than his own. _Well, 'spose it could also be that it's just easier going off some place with him and doing something._

Hannah dismissed herself for the shower, leaving him alone to his thoughts. She looked back only once, and he pretended not to notice. _What the hell am I doing?_

Letting out a long breath, he supposed she did not specifically ask not to be followed, but there was no way she would not just hex him, or worse, just kind of stand there awkwardly as they both stared at each other like the teenagers they knew they were. It was not the first time he had flown off the handle without taking stock of the consequences, and knowing him it would probably not be the last. He had cheated in the Triwizard Tournament for one or more champions, he had infiltrated the Department of Mysteries with another fourth-year, and that was only the past year. There was little point in trying to take stock in all he had done with Hannah a few feet away, all he remembered was the last thing, when Mafalda saw them, and that was among the few things in his life he remembered perfectly. He was not someone who picked up on things easily. He usually missed hints that most witches would think were obvious, or so they told him.

Unfastening a button, however, was quite unmistakable.

And, as he might have expected, it only made him feel all the more guilty. _Damn. Damn. Didn't realize she really, really... Merlin._ He shook his head. _I can't keep thinking about it. I'm getting nothing done._ Getting some crumpled parchment out of his schoolbag, he looked over some notes for ideas he had.

_War with limited numbers:_

_small operations_

_few advantages_

_Terry better have something good_

_War with greater numbers:_

_high visibility_

_worse chance of treachery_

_still can't think of how we'd win_

At some point he had switched to writing loss conditions, though most of them seemed reasonably apocalyptic.

_Secrecy falling, can't say what'll happen, but loads of people die_

_Death Eaters get a controlling interest in the Ministry_

_Death Eaters exterminated, everyone who resists is labeled as a Death Eater, public can't tell the difference_

_Hogwarts taken over by Death Eaters_

_Hogwarts taken over by Department_

_Hogwarts destroyed_

He sighed, deciding there was really nothing he could eliminate, and it would be pointless to write win conditions, since he was nowhere near any of them. For what it was worth, he was more familiar with loss conditions, as that was how he played chess. _Haven't had a good game in a while._ Percy, who had been one of his old opponents, had taken up work in the Ministry, working reasonably close to old Cornelius himself. He was a bit defensive of his position, which was fair enough, since he had worked for it, but Ron never stopped the twins from making fun of him for it. It was not, after all, out of absolute necessity that he worked for an incompetent puppet, nor that he pretended the Minister was anything else.

The following morning he looked around for Terry, deciding he would at least drop some kind of clue that there was a bit more to his asking Hannah to the ball. He found the Ravenclaw at breakfast.

"Have a pleasant study session with Hermione then?" he asked, receiving only a nod. "About how pleasant was it?"

"I have no impure intentions with her," the dark-haired wizard said without emphasis. "For the record, it was a productive evening, and I believe we are closer to an answer." _You can tell me what you're doing. I mean, I'd think you would, if you were so intent on convincing me to trust you._

"Study any anatomy?"

"Magic and its origins and use are a measure more complex than that," Terry answered, shaking his head. "People who lose hands and even entire arms have no trouble casting spells, provided they still have a hand to hold the wand. There was an experiment in the thirties where a group of wizards with two arms and a group of wizards with one each were tasked with attempting a simple wandless spell, and the disabled were about fifty percent more likely to succeed at it. The sample size was small, but the conclusion supports the channeling theory."

"Which is?" the Gryffindor asked at length.

"It's the idea that personal magic can be represented as a force, something that you generate and you use a wand to move it through your arm out into the world. The wand not only projects, it attracts the magic from within you. You can hardly just cast spells through it without touching it."

"Not sure about that, actually," Ron said, working on a plate of white sausage and eggs. "There was one time Malfoy and I were pinned down in Myrtle's washroom, and we put a wand down a pipe, didn't know it led to the Chamber at the time, but we managed to figure out that if he levitated his other wand, he could keep it lit. Pretty sure that's the one Quirrell stole."

Terry blinked a few times and shook his head.

"I shall be sure to notify the publishers of the books I've read."

"You mean no one's ever done that before?"

"If anyone has, it was not in any of the books I've read," the Ravenclaw wizard clarified. "For the record, I have other books to read. I have not, contrary to what some may believe, read the entire library." _Don't think I've said that out loud._

"Who said that?"

"She's a third-year, you may have met her once or twice. Lovegood. She doesn't seem to read much, well, not much that's in the library, but she gets the hang of spells on the first or second time, so she'd be a handy wand to have." He let out an exasperated sigh. "She asked me what Hermione or myself would do if either one of us read the entire collection. I didn't know how to respond, and chose not to, but she didn't seem too disappointed."

"Name's familiar. Might manage to recruit her over the holiday."

Terry shook his head.

"I wouldn't recommend it, not without some kind of extreme circumstance. It's impossible to hold a normal conversation with her, she seems to believe in a fair number of entirely mythical creatures and plants, and I really couldn't say whether or not she'd give out secrets." _I couldn't say if you would. Never met you before last year._

He resolved to talk to her if he ever ran into her, but he doubted seeking her out would work.

Dean was around, though, and that young man always provided for suitable distractions.

"Parvati's going with us for this one," the darker wizard muttered, not even introducing the mission to see if he wanted to come.

"Where're we going?" he asked, deciding he might as well know. "Need her for illusions?"

"She's itching for it, mate," Dean explained, walking quickly to one of the doors, avoiding the Entrance Hall exit. "Last time, she couldn't stand the fact I left her behind. I told her I couldn't find her, but she didn't believe me."

"Was it true?"

"I believe I could have found her had I looked," he responded, opening the side door with a wave. Parvati was outside.

"Well, can you tell me where we're going?" he asked, receiving only a general direction as an answer. That was when he realized she was pointing at the Durmstrang ship.

"Merlin, Parvati, aren't there students on that thing?" It had been his understanding that they could teach classes on board, which was the requisite for being in school.

"It was Dean's idea," she defended. "I came along to keep him from getting killed."

"My magical abilities are second to none, Parvati," he explained, not a word of resentment in his voice. Ron allowed his confusion and the accompanying expression to pass. _I won't figure out these two in a lifetime and a half._

"Well, what the hell kind of spell do you know to get onto a ship without anyone else noticing?" he asked. He had read about boarding and naval battles, which had actually managed to be interesting. The central problem with trying to board unnoticed was that the ship would move, and everyone on it would feel the entrance of someone new, even on a large ship. "Can you at least tell me why?"

"It's about Evan. If he doesn't show up to the next task, he won't win," Dean explained. "He's not going to Azkaban, which was the only place that could hold him. He's an enemy combatant."

"Dean."

"He's killed people. He's got ties to Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"Dean."

"It doesn't matter that he's fourteen, so are we and so are the people he's going to kill if he has his way."

"Dean."

"What?!"

"There's something called total war."

"This is total war!"

"Anyway, this thing called total war, to give you an example, one where you haven't already taken a side, we have the Hutu-Tutsi conflict. Tutsis killed about eighty thousand Hutus in the seventies, then Hutus killed about eight hundred thousand of them. What's the difference between them? How do you tell which is the good side and which is the bad side?"

"What does it matter?" Parvati asked.

"Well, sooner or later, everyone from bloody California to Calcutta's going to be asking the same question about us."

"They're not going to intervene for the Death Eaters."

"How do you know that? They haven't killed any children, 'least I don't think. What if someone decides that killing children makes you the bad guys and nothing else matters?"

Dean breathed an exasperated sigh.

"Fine," he decided at length. "We kill him in a duel. Tonight, we issue the challenge. Three for three, wherever he likes it."

Ron agreed, though in his mind there was virtually no chance the Heir of Slytherin would accept the conditions, or any others. _Can't imagine what he means by 'issue the challenge'._

Getting on the ship was simpler than he had thought, as it only required him to levitate a stone over the starboard while Parvati had them under illusions which made them substantially harder to see. The sentries had a look at the bridge, but shrugged when they saw nothing. _Don't expect anything, not surprised when nothing happens._ From then on, he had only to levitate the stone every time one of them boarded, which most likely had the sentries thinking there were tremors in the lake, which the Giant Squid might have caused. He doubted that any of them were using darksight charms, which were popular enough in Eastern Europe, mostly because the job meant nothing to them. As Hermione told it, Durmstrang had been vaguely military at one point, and some of the traditions from their days as an academy remained, like referring to sleeping quarters with the word for 'barracks' and giving students ranks and duties. They weren't paid, of course, and there were only some of them who were into the prestige of it, so the rest were mostly apathetic.

Getting downstairs was more difficult. There was a pair of guards with their wands drawn in front of the door that lead to the lower levels of the ship. Ron doubted they had been seen or heard, since he had managed the silent levitation, but their footsteps were not muffled. A witch or wizard some measure more advanced than any of them would be necessary to completely erase the sound, and covering it up with the muffling charm would hardly function, since the sound would be moving. Trying what had already worked, he levitated the stone from the shore again, bringing it down on the deck with a thud. The guards in front of the door remained in their positions while others investigated, if at their own pace. _Damn._

Dean tried his hand with an illusion of a mermaid in the water, and the students on board looked at it with a casual interest, but nothing more. Either they realized it was an illusion, or they were too well policed to simply jump into the water for it. Parvati created what appeared to be a small fire on the stern, but all that happened was the students on hand doused it with various water spells. _Well, now we're just showing our hand. Sooner or later they're going to learn not to believe what they see and when they see a ship without any intruders, it's going to look a bit fishy._ With the slightest luck, the sentries were moving about the deck, calling other students from belowdecks. Ron took the opportunity, bumping past someone who was going down without raising too much alarm, as it could have been anyone.

Guessing that Evan would be on the lowest deck or in the hull, as he was meant to be low-ranking within the school, he navigated to a ladder that went through the current deck, avoiding most of the commotion by taking the long way around. _No hurry, I've got to remember there's no hurry. Dean and Parvati are probably off the ship already._ He decided he would escape by hitting the wall with a blasting curse and calmly going back up the stairs as the students scrambled to fix the leak. _Well, with my luck it'll be spell-resistant._

When at last he found the target, surrounded though he was by larger students, he was reminded of Malfoy and his henchmen, as well as the sleep assist spell he had bid them learn. He settled on a body-bind for each of them instead, as it was what he knew, and woke Evan with a kick.

"I challenge you to a duel," he started simply, again reminded of Malfoy. "New Year's Eve on the Astronomy Tower- bring any two you like, but it'd be real fuckin' smart to stick to your own year," he continued, crouching. "My mates and I can always do things your way, after all."


	21. Proper Preparations

Hermione had learned from Ron that Cedric would have a few advantages in the Second Task in the way of light wards on the lakebed, but other than that, he would be on his own. He seemed upset for some reason, and asked to be let alone, though not in so many words. _Well, he's almost always direct, so I suppose I should expect it._

Terry had placed them closer to an understanding of magic, starting with the obvious.

"Have you found anything on dark magic?" she had asked as other witches prepared to go to the ball, some of them only in the next room. _I don't want to go. I have other things to do._ "To think, I'm now researching what they accused me of researching in first year."

"It would not have been any of their business if you had," her friend had said. "Was there anything in the library Anthony refrained from stealing?"

"Plenty, but for the record many of them were duplicates, and some of the books in the restricted section that make mention of dark magic really have little on it." She had been truly frustrated in the last few weeks with the authors of the library's collection, especially those about dark wizards and their practices. They really never failed to redundantly moralize about the evil of performing the rituals for which they only gave cursory descriptions. "Ritual magic involves... well, it's involved. I can't tell you how many different things can be sacrificed to make rituals work. Some of them don't seem like they would be remotely worth the cost, though they promise some truly outlandish things."

"Like what?"

"Eternal youth, perfect beauty- I mean, I recognize that it might be that I think it's outlandish when it is possible, but from what I've seen, you can't do anything like that." She sighed, realizing Terry might not be familiar with hoax medicine. "In the normal world, well, the muggle world as you might call it, there are people who are really desperate for things, like a cure for mutations like cancer. They start to look into things that have been proven wrong before because they can't do anything else, like washing in the Jordan river or experimental medicine, or even things that Native Americans used to do- well, not what the actual wizards among them did, or if the artifacts were authentic, they could not get it to work because they were not themselves magical-"

"Hermione."

"Right. The point is, these things consistently failed to work. There was no evidence they did work, it would have gone against the theory, and my parents, as active members of the medical community, had to fight this sort of thing. I don't know if I told you this, but I had some trouble believing magic was real until Professor Snape showed up at my school and used a silencing charm on me." _Well, that's a bit of an understatement. I refused to believe it was real._

"So these false cures are analogous to ritual magic?" Terry asked.

"Essentially, yes, because wizards should logically have the same failings in rational thinking that normal people do. Most of the false cures that are promised come at some kind of great cost, whether that's research that you have to do, or a direct monetary cost, because if it were not costly then everyone would try it and it would be exposed as a fake, and people sometimes mistakenly think that something is more valuable the more it costs. There's a trick for presenting false information where by making people really work for it, they become more and more likely to believe it." She sighed. "I don't entirely blame them. They get tired of everyone telling them the same things every time, and they want to live."

"I suppose we can't eliminate the possibility the rituals do not function, or at least some of them," the dark-haired wizard decided. "At the same time, if I discover one that is well-supported by the theory I and not incredibly costly, I should think we would at least consider it."

"Of course." Hermione paused. "When I say costly, some of these rituals require the deaths of innocent people."

"That's dreadful, but to be expected. There's a reason people have trouble separating dark magic from evil." Terry looked at a length of parchment in which he had been writing. "On that subject, it's as difficult to research as I thought it would be."

The witch nodded. Essentially, magic that was poorly understood and difficult to perform was rarely discussed in books, since there was little known to be discussed. Anything rarely practiced would have to be practiced more before any theoretical understanding of it could be formed.

"I think dark magic may be the reverse of proper theoretical spell-creation," Hermione ventured. "If a good student were to, say, come up with a new hex to annoy his or her friends, he or she would have in mind the effect being generated by the spell, similar spells, and then be able to come up with an incantation and wand movement based on the theories behind both."

She remembered her friend nodding, though it appeared he was thinking of something else.

"The look before you leap approach, yes. Dark magic, then, would be quite the contrast." He took a long look at his bag, possibly thinking of the books inside. "The most helpful resources I've read were written by dark wizards themselves. If you can get through the usual blood purism and the despicable things some of them have used magic to do, you may realize these people are legitimately pioneers of magic in an irrefutably admirable way, if only from an academic perspective. They have, consistently from what I have read, magically hurt themselves in body and mind from continual use, and we understand the reason for this is that magic is most dangerous when it is least known."

"They start with what they want to achieve and wander about in the dark until they find it, then," the bushy-haired witch summarized. "I would think that their initial results are quite lackluster, though for there to be interest in dark magic, they would have to achieve something eventually. The killing curse, for example, is really a great work of magic, and it's no wonder that wizards around the world have either heard of it or use it themselves."

"There was one work I read by a prolific slaughterer of muggles, no stranger to the curse," Terry started back. "Basically, to succeed at the curse, he had to hate the target. It seemed like a silly requirement, academically, since it was not how magic was supposed to work. His inability got him into a fair measure of trouble when he was trying to flee Muggle constabulary on horseback, in a time when Apparation was not standard in sixth-year education. He ended up having to hit them with fire charms, which was probably for the best, since the post-mortem examiners would have had an easier time explaining their corpses without resorting to the supernatural. At some point he realized that despite his hatred for muggles, he did not hate his pursuers, because he understood them. There was an inescapably human quality to the rage in their voices, something he might have felt were his own loved ones killed, apparently by a madman who picked villages to terrorize for weeks at a time."

"What happened?"

"The spell got easier when he learned how to consistently hate people. He had to reach a constant state of hatred, something that was not simply supplied and supplied by new iniquities, real or imagined, that the muggles were committing. He needed to hate them regardless of what they did, so he turned to hating them for what they were."

Hermione simply nodded in response. It was a familiar way of thinking, at least from what she had read in books, the irrational, self-deluding prejudice that people used to justify visiting abject cruelty on the innocent. As little as she liked it, she could hardly blame people who hated other groups because of things that those people had done, but it seemed an entirely different thing to put it in terms of being, to hate them for things they could not control, to leave them with no way out of being reviled.

"Is that how everyone who uses the killing curse thinks?" she asked at length, curiosity winning out.

"Not really, sometimes they manage to hate the individual, whether for that person's actions or something closely related. The thing of it is..." He stared off at some corner of the library, significance unknown to her. The expression seemed to be borrowed from Ron.

"What?"

"I mean, it seems unlikely to change anything, and this is really only a conjecture, but I can't convince myself that Voldemort hates anyone, or at least not every single person he's killed."

It was an interesting thought, to say the least.

"How do you know?" _It's the obvious question, I suppose. I never knew Terry to be in contact with dark wizards._ It occurred to her that she and the other members of the group had slacked to a degree about putting the code words into conversations, though apparently there really was no Inspection this year. _Ron told me after he came back from his and Dean's trip to the Department of - but how do I know that it was Ron coming back?_ An old fear was creeping back to her mind, taking hold of the way she understood the very conversation taking place before her.

"Hermione."

"What?"

"You look scared, somehow."

"Tell me who you are."

"I'm Terrence Boot. When you were certain you were talking to me and only me, you told me that a spider attacked you in a brass trophy after Voldemort reduced you to about six inches tall with a shrinking solution. This was about a year and three months ago, I remember being rather impressed with the measures you took, though I cannot say for certain whether or not someone has used Legilimency on me to extract the secrets from my brain-"

"Thank you. I thought you might have been an Inspector, or perhaps a Death Eater. Though, now that I think of it, it's terribly unlikely. Professor Snape probably used Legilimency on Ron when he came back from the Ministry to confirm his story, so he was telling the truth when he said there are no Department employees in Hogwarts, at least from what he knows. The Death Eaters already have plants inside the school, and they have not been shown to use polyjuice to disguise themselves, since they have their enchanted masks." She had some idea that they could recognize each other, but not be recognized by anyone else, except possibly Voldemort. "Well, how do you know this about Voldemort?"

"Does he seem vain to you?"

"Yes," she answered. _He changed his name and made his friends call him 'dark lord' or some variant of that. He might actually have a lordship at this point._

"That was easy, good," the wizard commented. "From the name, I would say it's reasonable to say he values his own life, and from this personality trait, he most likely values his own life much more than those of others."

Terry seemed to be taking no great leaps of logic. It was inefficient, but she supposed she had asked how he knew.

"Go on."

"I don't believe he values other people's lives very much at all. Quite a few Death Eaters died when they went after Azkaban, and I can only assume it was something they expected. They went in knowing that for many of them, it was a suicide mission, and it was all to resurrect an ancient dark wizard."

"So because he does not value the lives of others, he does not really hate anyone?"

"I'm sure he hates some people, but not everyone he's killed."

"So the theory needs to be modified," Hermione ventured.

"Complemented, more like. I believe Voldemort truly understands the killing curse. I believe that to him, it is no different than the levitation charm. If he ever magically injured himself by using it, even in subtle ways, he most likely is completely immune to it at this point."

"That speaks volumes for our understanding of magic," the Ravenclaw witch decided. "I've been writing down the substance of our conversations in case I die, and I'll have to add this."

Terry seemed to consider it.

"Yes, I suppose death is always right around the corner," he answered, not telling her whether or not he would do the same.

Presently, she was sitting next to Neville, hearing all about the ball. Apparently he had not only gone, but had asked a French witch, a distant relative of Draco's. It had taken him a few minutes to get the words out, but he was apparently quite proud of himself.

"Did you get asked by anyone?"

The question went unanswered. _It's hardly important. I can manage just fine without being asked to a ball._

"Did you see who Evan took?" she asked. "How many fingers did she manage to keep?"

"I'd think Tracey got out with all of them, though you'd have to ask her. I don't remember. Seems she likes him."

It was difficult to imagine, but she supposed there had to be a dark witch for every dark wizard, more or less. The vast majority of Death Eaters and their minions, to her knowledge, were men, but that fit the model, since they were violent criminals as mandated by their master, and people who were interested in dark magic or blood purism in a purely theoretical sense were not welcome. She frowned. _When the Slytherin witches proving themselves as allies to some combination of Voldemort and the Death Eaters finish Hogwarts, they'll have quite the unpleasant choice waiting for them._

"Have you heard anything more about him?"

"Apparently he's running a dueling practice at night, though he does a bit of showing off." Hermione nodded. The spells that the Heir of Slytherin used to restrain and kill the dragon seemed excessive, and the motivation behind them might have been the display, sickening though it was. "He's asked Malfoy to help him in a duel."

"A duel? Who is his opponent?" she asked, reminded of the pairs duel she had started in first year.

"If he mentioned it, I don't remember," Neville answered, looking at his Remembrall. "Must not have, for what it's worth. In either event, I think he sounded worried about it."

"Thank you for telling me. If you hear anything more about the duel, please let me know." _The most likely reason for him to be worried about the duel is the stakes. He might have wagered his own participation in the Tournament, or something far more valuable._

Hannah caught her in the corridor, nearly running into her as she rounded the corridor.

"Happy New Years, Hermione," she started, something of an inane statement for her. "I was wondering if you could help me with something? Ron's a bit- well, he's a bit upset, it seems."

"What is it?"

"Well, I need to ward the Astronomy Tower. Do you have any idea about shield wards? Things that can block dark magic- I mean, if not, that's fine, but-"

"Hannah, is this about the duel?" she asked, following the Hufflepuff witch.

"Well, I was thinking that, who knows, Death Eaters may attack at any time, and they might try something unconventional like coming down from above on thestrals or something, and they might have a spell that can-"

"Hannah, you can tell me. I'll help you even if you did something stupid like challenging Evan to a duel."

"Well, it's not me, it's Ron."

Hermione blinked.

"What kind of wards do you need?"

"Something that can stop unknown magic would be good. How is your understanding of the dark arts?"

"Improving, actually-" she muttered, keeping up with the blonde witch only out of curiosity. In their Defense classes, Professor Snape had spent part of the autumn term explaining what the dark arts were, the better to combat them as the rationale went, but while she had expected him to be teaching them outright, she was still having trouble even understanding it from the class material. Reproducing the dark spells he used in class would have been impossible, as long as she was unwilling to learn them the same way he must have- trial and error. "I doubt I can make shields that can block dark curses specifically, but physical walls should do the trick."

"That's good, we'll need as many of them as we can," Hannah decided, not having slowed down at all. _Why is she so focused on defense? There are wards that can make them regret accepting the duel- though we can only assume they'll be doing the same, so I'll have to sweep it for wards first, then monitor it over the next few-_

"When is the duel?"

"It's tomorrow night. I imagine Dean wanted to catch Evan off guard, giving him less time to pick partners."

The Ravenclaw let out a long sigh, allowing her friend to get ahead of her for a moment, only to look back.

"Well, at least I know why Ron seemed upset this morning," she said, starting after Hannah at a walk with the hopes of keeping the pace. "He was focused on planning for the duel. I mean, sure, he gets himself into these things, but he at least knows how to prioritize..." she trailed off, noticing the expression on the other girl's face.

"Hermione, that's not why he was upset... I was with him when he got the letter from Charlie." The Hufflepuff exhaled sharply as though something were bizarrely amusing, or perhaps as a defense mechanism when saying something painful. "He was so excited he read it aloud..."

The color drained from Hermione's face.


	22. Vows Unbroken

The trip up to the Astronomy Tower was a slow and painful one.

Hannah had learned the specifics of the duel, that Ron had already implicitly selected his partners, whom Evan was likely to select as his own partners, that it would start the final hour of 1994, but there was one thing she had found out without having to be told.

A duel on the Astronomy Tower was a duel to the death.

There was no avoiding it- a location that dangerous chosen as the dueling grounds invited the possibility of falling, and when one side believed it was at risk of death, lethal force was perfectly justifiable. She hardly expected the duel would be watched by the respective Ministries, but she knew that if they killed Ron, or one of his partners, there would be nothing she could do about it except kill them herself. _I almost wish I were a werewolf._

As expected, witnesses to the duel would be allowed, but each participant would have to swear an Unbreakable Vow to kill anyone who intervened on his behalf. Breaking the vow would result in immediate death, and keeping it would serve as a sufficient deterrent to prevent others from entering the ring, defined by ward light. She and Hermione would be the only witnesses for Ron, Dean, and Parvati, and as Malfoy insisted on keeping things balanced, Nott and Tracey Davis would serve as the witnesses for the other side.

In the final minutes of the trudge up the stairs, Hannah reached over and touched Ron's shoulder.

"Ron, please, while you're up there, don't think about..." _How can I tell him not to think about it._

"I'm going to be fine. They're going to come right out the gates with killing curses. I'll forget everything else I know and fight." She frowned, looking down a moment.

"No you won't. You care more about the people you love than the people you hate." She sighed. _If I don't know anything else about you, I know that you don't want this war. You're rash and quick to fight, but you'll always be loyally looking out for your friends and family._ The red-haired wizard made no effort to deny it. He was no cold-hearted killer, however easy he might have believed that decision before approaching it on that long, spiral stair. "I don't know why your sister left school with Anthony and Harper because I don't know her. I never knew her, but I know you. I know what you meant to her doesn't have anything to do with what she means to you." Hannah kept her tears from coming. "I know you can't promise me to think of killing them. I want you to promise me that you'll be thinking of me."

He pulled her in for a kiss, a sincere one, if a short one, though for a moment time was forgotten. The witch smiled. _One of these days I'm going to surprise you, you know._

She found Hermione waiting with the others and joined her as the players too their places on the stage. The roof of the Astronomy Tower was large, and it would take a considerable effort to throw someone over the stone crenelations, but another place of battle would have been selected had either party no intention to kill the other.

"It feels awful to just have to stand here. I mean, we fought Evan and Malfoy once," she whispered to her Ravenclaw friend.

"Well, we lost, or near enough," Hermione said with a frown. "I need you to watch carefully, because there's a condition in the Vow that if anyone breaks the rules, the other team is released from their side of the bargain."

"I see. We couldn't bring Terry?"

"He's on the ground. If anyone goes over the edge, he can't help them back in, but it's not against the rules to catch them."

Looking across the way at the other witnesses, she doubted they could hear anything they were saying. _I imagine Evan picked the duelists, but Malfoy picked the witnesses. He would want someone who would be willing to protect Evan, even if it meant violating the rules, but only if it became necessary._ Her eyes drifted to Evan's partners. _Malfoy would have picked someone he knew, but I imagine he insisted on getting this big Durmstrang guy. They probably know each other._ She recognized him from the time she and Ron were out at the lake, and the unpleasant memories that went with that night.

"I see you've left the mudblood out of it, Weasley... not that the decision fell to you," Malfoy taunted. Hermione was visibly unfazed. "Probably for the best, of course, extending her life a moment longer."

"He's trying to make you angry," Parvati supplied.

"Reckon so. 'm only trying to figure out why," Ron muttered, drawing. "I'm already angry."

"Perfect. Your defeat will only come all the swifter, and your screaming all the sweeter to my ears," Evan decided, sending up green sparks. " _Venti Fortunae!_ "

The battlefield was immediately swept with what felt like a tornado, making it impossible to scream, or even breathe. All at once there were six copies of Parvati, and tall wooden walls rose from the floor to protect the other side, though this proved ineffective against Ron's absurdly overpowered knockback jinx, and Dean's charge of flame turned it into a hazard, creating a hole in the middle almost immediately. Parvati's curses streamed in from different directions as a fire arrow of some sort flew out, forcing both Dean and Hannah behind him to jump aside.

"Is that a violation?!" she shouted, keeping her eyes on Ron's successive jinxes against the barrier, each stronger than the last, though the fire had gone out. _Hiding behind the shielding won't do them any good if they lose all their ground._

"I don't know!" the Ravenclaw shouted back, barely audible. She had some idea that Evan's annoying wind spell might serve to make it more likely to go over the edge, or possibly to limit the amount of spells being cast by depriving everyone of the ability to speak. _He hasn't shown any inclination to silent spells himself, so it could be something the other wizard can do-_

"Is shouting advice a violation?!" she asked as Dean had a battle of severing charms with Malfoy.

"I don't know! Flying is a violation, so is casting spells from outside," Hermione answered, getting closer. "We can't just assume what the rules are, let the others try and bend them when they start losing; we'll know immediately." Parvati's ruse seemed to be working as Evan's animated dead man barreled into an illusion, passing through it and going to the next one without missing a beat. It was hard to see which spells were hers because of how many there were, but she might have hexed the big Durmstrang student, though he must have shielded. _So he's on defense, Evan is on the attack- what's Malfoy doing?_

Everyone's eyes were drawn as Parvati went over the edge.

Dean screamed a killing curse, and it appeared to pass right through the shield that the opposing side raised, but it missed all the same. His onslaught would not be so easily stopped, even though Malfoy's taunting only paused to conjure snakes as Evan created the cursed hammer conjuration above them. Ron raised a shield ward from the ground right as another fire arrow came his way, surprising his enemy for a moment as he whirled about and hit Evan with a body-bind, forced away by a powerful knockback from Malfoy, complete with further taunting. Dean fired at the Durmstrang student with another killing curse, but this was blocked by another wood wall, though it distracted Malfoy long enough for Ron to hit him with a severing charm from the ground. The pink spellfire of the charm hit the target in the hand, causing him to release his wand as Dean used an explosive curse on the wooden wall, shattering it and sending shrapnel in all directions, with only Ron being spared the full effect by accident of being on the ground.

Shouting incomprehensibly as he got to his feet, Ron levitated Malfoy's wand over the edge as he raised a shield ward to block some unrecognizable spell from the nameless wizard before Dean hit him with another explosive curse where he was already weakened from the wood spikes, causing him to retch blood. The Gryffindor was in only marginally better condition as he collapsed to his knees.

"It's over Malfoy!" Ron shouted hoarsely. "You're more valuable alive; we're taking you alive or I'll kill you!"

"I like my odds," the Slytherin spat back as Nott and Tracey forced him to dodge a pair of killing curses, compromising his position. _That's our-_ Hermione was faster, creating a jet of water ostensibly aimed at Nott, but grazing Evan to knock his wand from his frozen hand. _If we're lucky they won't have seen that._ Hannah managed to raise a physical shield ward, blocking another killing curse from Tracey as Nott moved, dodging again as Ron aimed a severing charm at his throat. She turned her wand to Malfoy before remembering he was obligated to kill his own witnesses if he regained his wand, but he disappeared in a column of red light, as if snatched up by the stars themselves.

Tracey managed to revive Evan as Hermione raised a shield behind the jet of water she created, knocking the Slytherin witch off her feet, freezing the water with her wand arm. The Heir scrambled for his wand a moment as Ron blasted Nott over the edge with an explosive curse, though no sooner did he gain it before she and Hermione hit him with a body-bind and a stunner.

With the targets down or dead, Hannah rushed to the edge of the roof to look over the crenelations, but did not see Terry at the bottom with Parvati.

"You won't find 'er..." the Durmstrang student managed, spitting blood. A flick of Ron's wand moved his own away. Hermione was busy healing Dean. "Don't bother. I'll be dead in a few minutes." _I had almost forgotten about him. I suppose that might be why._

"Spit it out first, then." the red-haired wizard demanded, in little, if any position to threaten.

"We didn't know about the wards- clefer trick, really. We thought you'd have someone down there, looking to catch the fallen- not against the rules, good way of keeping your soldiers alive." He gave a toothy grin, his teeth red.

"So you sent Crabbe and Goyle? Someone else?"

"I don't know their names. It was a lot of them. Malfoy knows you don't hafe a lot of friends, but he's been making an army." Ron scowled. _He's going to get Terry for that if we get him back alive._

"So they have Parvati and Terry-"

"He probably ran for it," Hermione supplied, not looking up. Dean's condition seemed to be improving. "If it were just Crabbe and Goyle, he might have fought them, but any more and he would have realized there was nothing to be gained. If we had fought it better, Parvati would still be up here."

The Durmstrang student was dead.

"So Malfoy had a way out, but he needed one for Evan," Ron decided. "Either he jumps off when they're losing, or we trade him."

"Leave it to Draco to take advantage of three planets and the sun being under Capricorn tonight, at least in the geocentric view," the Ravenclaw witch muttered as she removed the last of the wooden spikes from Dean and sealed his wounds. Hannah frowned. She paid attention in Astronomy well enough, but the practical applications were only supposed to start next year, which was why a lot of students bailed before then.

"Don't tell me-" the injured wizard started, against his healer's insistence. "Don't tell me we're actually thinking about trading Evan."

"Dean, it's Parvati!"

"I know that! Don't act like I don't know that!" he shouted back. "We can try finding out where she is and killing whoever's in the way. We can try polyjuicing someone else as Evan. The only thing I'm not willing to consider is an honest trade."

Nothing was said for a moment. Hannah was trying to process what she was hearing. From everything that she had seen, the young man was a killing machine, he tore through dark wizards and their minions with his cursed magic, reining himself in only to maintain a low profile, though his having imbibed unicorn blood was the worst-kept secret in the world. She understood why Parvati liked him- he was strong, he was restrained, and he was hanging on in quiet desperation, the tortured soul type that girls their age discussed in hushed tones. At the same time, though, she had imagined some strength of character, some honor and integrity must exist underneath, or else as the illusion faded, as the excitement of romance waned and gave way to the everyday, Parvati, or any other witch, would move on.

"Dean, any kind of trick, anything we could do, they could do it too-" Ron started back. "They could just have us walk through one of those weird gates, like the one where you get into Azkaban." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "They want him back. The only thing they're not willing to consider is not getting him back, and I can't think of any measure they wouldn't take."

"Be aware- they're having the same conversation right now," Hermione supplied. "I have to agree with Ron, in a sense. We're more likely to kill Evan than they are to kill Parvati and they know it."

"I'm not sure they do." Dean muttered. _He might be referring to the way he sees us- hopeless idealists who can't stand to get their hands dirty. I'm not sure the Slytherins see us the same way, though._ "- and I'm not sure we are."

"They know we have you with us, don't they?" the Ravenclaw argued, picking up on the point. "They're going to offer the best possible terms- it's what makes sense for them to do, if they want Evan back they'll have to guarantee that she's alive now and she'll be perfectly fine when we get her, no tricks at all. Besides, she's Padma's sister. They don't really want to kill her."

Ron scoffed at the idea, an unexpected turn of events.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they put a ward on her stomach to rupture as soon as they let her go, just to spite us. You're dealing with the meanest, cruelest- and it doesn't matter if Malfoy's been seen snogging Padma or not. We don't know that it means anything."

_We don't?_

"Then what do you propose?" Hermione asked, somewhat angered. "What should we do differently if they mean to give up the whole war just to kill Parvati for no reason?" She looked over at Hannah. "What do you think?"

"I mean... I don't think they'll value the sister of Malfoy's _fling_ that highly," she said, remembering the person about whom they were talking. "I mean, this whole time we've been talking about what they're going to do to get back Evan, and Tracey's just been over there, frozen to the ground and rapidly losing body heat," she continued, pointing. "I take it we're going to kill her in cold blood? I take it they're not going to mind?"

Everyone stared at her silently for a moment, but there was nothing that could be said. They were not going to trade Parvati for Tracey, even though it was a reasonable trade, because they would have nothing else to offer for Evan. In all probability, they were just going to take Evan and leave her there in the frosty air surrounded by all the people who really cared about her. Inexplicably, a grin spread across Ron's face.

"I don't think so," he started. "I reckon we can make a deal with her."

"What?" Dean asked, irritated.

"Loyalist or not, she knows she's been hung out to dry." He looked over at the frozen witch, hitting her with a warming charm after drawing her wand to his hand. "If we threw you into the Forbidden Forest, they wouldn't care if you got buggered by a pack of centaurs; it'd be an afterthought."

Hermione did not seem to appreciate the implication about the centaurs, but the sentiment got through.

"You think she'll want revenge." Ron nodded. "Well, in any possible case, this will require further planning. Draco has yet to propose the deal, likely because he has no means to ensure the integrity of the trade at this point." The wizard nodded again.

"Yeah, there'd be details to work out, 'specially if she doesn't want to go along with it last minute or something."

Dean wore a perturbed expression, but being voted out in a direction that did not result in Evan being handed over seemed like the best he could hope to get. _I suppose he could just kill Evan before any of us could stop him- but he's more valuable alive. He can't argue that he's being 'practical' and 'realistic' and waste this chance to get information on Voldemort._

Hermione produced suitable containers for Evan and Tracey, saying she would go to Ravenclaw Tower to look for Terry, which seemed reasonable. Dean disappeared, which allowed Hannah to breathe again, and she and the other Gryffindor walked back to the room, which was close enough. It was a calm, quiet walk, enough that they realized they were both shaking, and not from the cold air, left behind in another world.

Even in the warmth of the mysterious room they were still unsteady.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked. "Damn, I feel like I'm repeating myself, but it probably won't be the last-"

"Ron..." she started back, standing rather than joining him as he moved to the couch, exhausted as he was. "What do I mean to you?"


	23. An Exchange Between Gentlemen

It was the Longbottom heir who told them what exactly the mudblood and her traitor friends had. Draco waved away his guilt.

"It's not as if it were privileged information. They would want us to know what they have to trade." The pair of them were in the abandoned classroom Evan had been using for his not-so-secret dueling practice, which had become a _de facto_ meeting place for the vassals and their followers. The leader had encouraged them to gather followers of their own not long after they formed, which led to Bole using the last of his Quidditch celebrity to gain a few first and second-years. Other vassals had fewer followers, if more notable ones. Being named vassals had elevated Parkinson and Bulstrode more than it lowered them, making them something of an authority in the witches' rumor mill of Slytherin. It had ended up being their work in looking into Mafalda's case that located the culprits, but as they were from good families and the first-year was likely a blood traitor, Draco ultimately decided to pardon them with a warning.

"I can't say I've got any idea where they've kept him, 'cept it's not outside." The blonde wizard nodded, allowing everyone else to wonder what it was he understood Neville to mean. The truth was, he had seeded much of the soil in the castle grounds with some kind of magical fungus, which served to decompose residual magic. Small wards, missed spells, the remains of dead magical creatures, and whatever else would be subsumed into the fertilization of the soil.

"That is valuable information, thank you Longbottom." he responded, dismissing the overweight wizard. In truth, he had lost some weight, but most would not notice. The Hufflepuff left them.

"I have my doubts about working with him. He seems of the same sentimental variety as our enemies." Derrick ventured. Nott seemed to agree, but said nothing.

"Worse, actually," Draco responded, smirking. "He longs for first year, when there was no war at all. He knows not his true friends from his enemies and those using him, or he cares not for the difference." His expression grew serious- on command, as ever. "We shall need him for the next attack by his own House. We were lucky to survive their assault of greater numbers, and they will be wise to select a time and a target outside the reach of teachers."

"Electrum was not in their numbers," Nott noted. Crabbe and Goyle had been sufficient to slow his fall, though a few healing spells were required after that. Ioseb, the Durmstrang student Evan had brought to the duel, was not so fortunate. _I can only hope vanishing his body will be sufficient. Evan said he had a friend in the Headmaster, and for that reason I suspect he is the Dark Lord._

"What are we going to do with the harlot we have in the dormitory?" Parkinson asked, perhaps seeing that one subject had reached a natural conclusion. "Are we going to leave her tied up in the dungeons for Bole's boys to find?"

"That question is out of line," Bole asserted, likely borrowing a phrase from his uncle, a prosecutor in the Wizengamot.

Draco sighed. It was truly a disgusting thing the witch was suggesting, but the fact they had tolerated it with the Slytherin first-year opened a door, at least from one perspective.

"Crimes against Slytherin witches vary in severity by both blood and loyalty. Had Miss Prewett reported the incident to me, or any one in Slytherin, her loyalty would be unquestioned. She has, however, most likely taken roost with out enemies, as she has not been seen in the dormitories. I have out of the perpetrators the exact nature of their crimes and I have decided it would be insufficient reason for further punishment, which was mitigated by their blood and loyalty." The vassals seemed to consider his argument, which had not previously had been prevented. It explained his reasoning and put to rest suspicions that he had been otherwise motivated, but it subjected him to question and argument. "I know beyond the most infinitesimal doubt that the Hufflepuffs are willing to resort to such measures against enemy combatants, and what goes for the enemy goes for the traitor tenfold. I would not be surprised to find their defectors with such scars, visible or otherwise."

The idea seemed to renew a silent fervor he knew his vassals possessed, for if it were out of reason that they swore allegiance, it had been passion that brought them against their enemies like cornered rats determined to do the cornering for a change.

"I would suggest, Malfoy, that we verify her identity and present her unharmed," Crabbe managed. _It appears my abilities continue to rub off on you. You might yet make a skilled negotiator if you were to find a way to put three independent clauses in a sentence._

His suggestion seemed to surprise some of the others, but the truth of it was they failed to realize he was violent, but not bloodthirsty.

"It would appear we are relying on their foolish sentimentality," Nott commented. "If, by contrast, they are thinking, they will behead him as the grey-cloaked of Marseilles beheaded Ector the Deathless." Draco nodded. There were a handful of spells that had been used in the past to bypass protective enchantments, and quite a few of them provided for quite the spectacle, but a killing curse would usually suffice. The Dark Lord himself likely possessed nothing that could save him from it, else he would have gone ahead and declared himself emperor of the world. _I remain relatively sure that Mister Thomas, at the very least, can produce one._

"I believe we can, within reason, rely on the very same," Draco responded. "There is of course the chance they intend to cheat us, and in that event we shall have a contingency. Between now and then, however, we would be foolish not to use our numbers to seek them out. Discovering where Evan is being kept will deliver him into our hands, and Longbottom has essentially told us he is confined to the castle."

"The castle's wards would provide a way of verifying identities," Bulstrode suggested. The Malfoy heir ignored the statement on principle, yet it was true enough. The Inspectors had been allowed to enter the school only upon proving that they were not themselves, dark wizards, an early compromise in the arrangement, though apparently being possessed by a dark wizard was not something whoever read the names could detect. _It makes one wonder how exactly the Dark Lord would have come in a second time, but this will not be the first convention he has managed to defy._

"Bole, it will be your duty along with Bulstrode to perform the trade as necessary, Parkinson you may communicate the details. Crabbe, you and Goyle will be securing the area to prevent our enemies from bringing reinforcements, though they likely have none."

"What will you do?" Goyle asked.

"I have a suspicion the Heir and our missing vassal are being hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. Else, there are most likely Death Eater loyalists in there, or people we can use in any event. Simulating an attack on the Chamber will either result in their liberation or an increased security detail, which takes Aurors away from productive work." _Whether it contains common criminals or our own wizards, the Chamber will prove a helpful venture._ "Before it comes time to trade, be sure to have searched the castle." he ordered, his eyes lingering on Bole. _Perhaps your followers may prove useful yet._

As the meeting dismissed, he had some idea that Parkinson would settle on midnight, a standard meeting time for those who could sneak out. It was somewhat easier under Headmaster Snape, who seemed to believe that teachers, including himself, would better served posted in front of the common rooms on a rotating scheme. With this change in place, the troublemaker had only to avoid being shepherded from the Great Hall to the common area by the Prefects. In his case it was easy enough, as the House representatives avoided him when he seemed to want to be avoided, though it was probably also easy enough for his enemies, as they were outcasts of a sort. He smirked to himself at the idea. _Their delusion only deepens if they seriously expect to fight both us and the Hufflepuffs._ Draco had, of course, told the dark lions and younger Slytherins that the mudblood and her friends were tacitly supporting the conspiracy, but he knew the truth well enough. _They lack a leader, or anyone who might attract students. They are not completely without note of their own, but their choice to remain anonymous sabotages any hope they had of gaining greater following._

At the same time, three of them had managed to defeat him, Evan, and Ioseb, a student sworn to defend Evan with his life.

 _Mister Thomas and his cursed strength would have won the day for them in single combat- it was their own folly that led to their current situation, as we would have no prisoners had he not allowed us strategies of more than one wizard._ The Malfoy heir shook his head. There was no need to make the best of it in his own mind. _Our plan was seamless. With the Durmstrang loan on defense, Evan's time-sensitive curses and conjurations were supposed to work, while I used Legilimency- most likely without their knowledge._ He briefly considered that one of his opponents had some way of detecting it, perhaps Occlumency, but discarded the idea. He remembered encountering no mental blocks, nor did he find anything he could use on a moment's notice.

He did, however, find one thing of interest.

 _Perhaps I should have seen it coming, with it being two blood traitors._ A smug, contented expression formed. _I doubt it even occurred to them just how quickly their little fling was developing. I suppose I should give Weasley a mote of credit, of course. I had not believed he had it in him._

His own relationship with Padma had hit a wall, but such was reasonable at their age. Had she acquiesced to his suggestions, as he was sure they were none too subtle for a clever witch as herself, he would have been glad of it, but he would have lost much of his respect for her. The Slytherin girls who had dabbled in dark magic supposedly required an Unbreakable Vow, but there was no proof of such things taking place, only rumors discussed late at night, usually with Firewhiskey involved.

The time to set out with Nott and Derrick came swiftly, and swiftly did he respond to it.

The way to the corridor was one he had taken many times, but he had competent help this time. _Creevey is likely still hiding his face from me- very well, should I need him I shall find him, and should he work on something to counter his shame, all the better for me._ Strangely, however, he found there were three Gryffindors waiting outside the witches' toilet. Derrick held up a hand.

Draco scowled at the delay, but his other vassal had something helpful up his sleeve; it was a curved glamour shield that deflected light around them. _If we remain still, we should be mostly invisible._ Rather than ask his allies what they might have heard, he honored the raised hand and waited.

To his surprise, a smattering of Hufflepuffs went down the stairs, going past them. Nott waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.

"My muffling spell has gone around the school like a plague," he whispered. "I scoured the texts for a counter, and I found an advanced charm that allows me to hear through such deception."

"I wager you have, but what of the next time your charm goes around?" Draco whispered, taking note of his vassal's belief the muffling charm was his own.

The six Hufflepuffs were mostly students he did not recognize, though he counted Megan Jones of his own year in their number. _It seems Electrum has better things to do this evening. I can only imagine what._ They reached the guarded door and accosted the guards, though they spoke in hushed tones.

"They want to pass," Nott explained. "They argue that there will be nothing to guard if the prisoners were dead. They know that if anyone gets in, the Aurors will take immediate action. They say the prisoners are Death Eater sympathizers. The guards say they are not."

It came to wands rather quickly, but he supposed the infiltrators had the advantage, numerically speaking. In the interest of implicating them and keeping the school from finding bodies, he restrained his vassal before he could fire anything lethal into their backs.

" _Petrificus Totalus."_

One of the older students dropped like a stone, but the battle continued until only one was still standing, and Draco petrified him as well.

"It always works out, though, does it not?" Nott asked rhetorically, waving a wand to move the immobilized bodies out of the way.

"Of course. Worry not with the heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy."

Derrick was rolling his eyes, but it was just as well. Though they were only partially joking, it was only evidence the commoners would never quite understand the nobility.

The secret entrance was already open, but it seemed his vassals shared his suspicions it would not be entirely unguarded. If their plan was to kill everyone inside in the event of a breach, there would be at least a sentry. He internally scowled at the notion of magical blood not being valued to such an extent, but it was par for the course. After the destruction of Azkaban, public sympathy for prisoners had tanked, and sympathy for policies that Crouch invented had essentially moved in the opposite direction. New facilities had been floated in the Ministry by well-meaning committee members as possible replacements, at least for some of the less dangerous captures, but the faction supported by the Department of Mysteries denied them as things were finally going their way. Death Eater sympathizers quietly joined them in hopes that the public would see they were being forced into kill-on-sight policies, which usually endangered bystanders, either by getting in the way when fights broke out, or when they were attacked in their homes rather than being arrested in their homes.

Derrick interrupted his thoughts by jumping down the hole in the floor, casting a silent stunner on the way down. _A true feat of athleticism- let Crabbe and Goyle take note._ He came back up with some additional difficulty.

"Door's got something of a layer of dust over it- hasn't been opened in days," he concluded.

"Our worst fears realize before our very eyes," Nott muttered. "We must be away, and quickly." he decided, moving toward the door. _Another evening wasted. Our only hope is someone else having found him, lest we rely on the deal taking place._

Draco scowled internally a second time as they were out, stepping over the frozen students, some of whom were aware of their presence. _It makes no matter, not in reference to our current predicament. The conspirators knew from the beginning that they were out enemies._

"Do you think anyone else has found Evan and Tracey?" Derrick asked.

"Let not your foolish hopes cloud your mind-" the other vassal started, though their leader raised a hand.

"No," he answered simply, taking the stairs slowly. "With little enough time to search before an alarm is raised, it is likely that none of us will discover them before Parkinson sets the time and place." Essentially, there was only so long they could look for the captives, because sooner or later the schools would notice Evan was missing and Professor Snape would be the first to be blamed, with the Tournament going on. "We might have another bargaining chip for our deal, however."

"I suppose we could capture some first-years," Derrick suggested as they rounded the corner at the landing, heading outside. _We can assume Parkinson will not have changed the terms overmuch._

"Possible, but we would lose our status as being their protectors in a heartbeat," the Malfoy heir responded. "I acknowledge that it's not worth as much as Evan, but I believe we can yet bargain for him." _My father will be disappointed at my failure in the duel, but I have not told him of my developments in the mind arts, so I should retain some excuse._ Thus far, the plan was to argue that he had little choice but to support Evan in the duel he foolishly accepted. It was unlikely to work perfectly, as his father expected excuses and false representations of the situation, though it seemed unjust. "I have learned something about one of them, and it may yet be more valuable than her life."

"I assume asking about it would break it." the Beater responded. "Can't really agree not to say it if you've already said it."

They reached the grounds, quietly looking around for the others before they all came to the conclusion that they had not given Parkinson sufficient directions about where the exchange would take place, even a side of the castle.

"I expect sparks in the sky-" he lied, though not entirely transparently. _Damn it all, I'm still making mistakes like this. I cannot afford to be risking the whole of the wizarding world with such-_

"There they are." Derrick said quietly, wand out. _It's the standard form of long-distance signaling._

Something of Draco's swagger returned to his step as they took their time going across the crowd. The laconic blood traitors would not spend too much time negotiating, but the deal would not be concluded without their presence.

_Evan will be returned to us before long- it only makes it better that they well and truly have no idea what comes their way._


	24. Interlude: The Dog

Sirius coughed, waving the overlong wand at the spiderwebs above his bed. Holing up in a place some younger fellow with red hair had found for him had been a new experience, but it was a sight and a half better than Azkaban. Really, he should be grateful the worst thing about Ghana was the spiders, however clever they seemed to think they were.

Using the old man's wand was not something he had envisioned himself doing, but he was without one at the time and decided necessity outweighed respect for the dead, a decision he had made a few times in the past. Remus, he remembered, would insist on burying their fallen friends, when he always thought a good fire charm would at least hedge out the possibility of the body being used to create an Inferius.

"Funerals are for the living, old friend," he whispered to no one. "You always did take losses hard, didn't you?"

There had been more than enough in the last war, though he frowned at the terminology. From the way it felt and the time he lost in prison, he could not be sure that there was a 'this war' and a 'last war', or if the war had simply died down to start up again. Remus certainly would not be remembering much of the time in between, so he would be no help in making the distinction, though there was no one else he could contact.

Shortly after escaping the prison's ruin after a few attempts at Apparation with an unfamiliar wand, he found his old friend, as expected, by howling. Perhaps the only reason he survived the swipes the werewolf took at him before at last calming down was because of how rail-thin he had become in Azkaban, even in his other form. He managed to hang on long enough for Remus to recognize him, though there seemed to be something wrong with his eyes. A few Hogwarts professors had gone out to look for the werewolf that had apparently bitten a student, found the two of them, and probably recognized him for an Animagus, but asked no further questions as they puzzled out what was wrong. Apparently his old friend had managed to curse his eyes to remain in his beast form, though the teachers assumed someone else had done it to him.

Since then his journey to find his brother had taken him to Africa, where the remnants of the Order believed some Death Eaters to be operating in secret. With no established networks of dark wizards that were essentially equivalent to those a careful eye could see across Europe, some groundwork had to be lain and the task could be assumed to fall to more junior members of the organization. He avoided Professor McGonagall, who might have recognized him, and asked one of the newer teachers if there were any graduates looking for dark wizards, and where they might be after Remus identified himself as a former Order member. They had been without leads, but someone remembered one Arthur Weasley, who had been willing to participate late in the war, who might have had a son in Africa. It was the thinnest connection he could have found, but it was also the only one.

Getting to Egypt had been easy enough; he had expected more resistance from law enforcement, but it was not as if he had been the only escapee. Finding the young man had been slower and more difficult, because he had only been given a city in which to look, but apparently Bill had been expecting him. Reusing a fake name from his younger years, he identified himself as Snuffles Starr, an Order member in search of dark wizards. He seriously doubted the younger wizard believed him, but he said Egypt was the wrong place to look. There were dark wizards, to be sure, but no one who wanted anything to do with the Death Eaters.

"If you want to find people who might be forming networks, you'll need to look into the Ashanti Kingdom and the Kingdom of Dagbon."

"I suppose that can't take more than an afternoon," he remembered saying.

"If you give a damn how long it takes, that's your business. I'm only telling you what I know, which isn't much."

"What else do you know?"

"The North is a dangerous place. Dark wizards are actively fighting some other group that wants to ally itself with the Death Eaters, who seem to be handing out a few old secrets to make inroads."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I don't even properly know who they are- they're a touch secretive, but the bodies show signs of dark magic."

Having learned that the Kingdom of Dagbon was in the northern half of Ghana, getting there was the easy part. His appearance had been something of a windfall for the wizard with long red hair, as it turned out Animagi were somewhat more common where he was going than in the rest of the world. _As if I shall not stick out like a sore thumb all the same._

In the past few days he had secured a simple hut, though its appearances were quite deceiving. It was comfortable except for the spiders, and there was a well bucket that seemed to serve as a Pensieve, though the memories were vast and went back generations. _The former owners of this home must have been pure, or whatever it is around here._ Asking around, no one who spoke English seemed to know about blood status terms, but everyone knew they were dead, and the home was easy to obtain because of the spirits.

"Usually we leave homes as they are," an elder explained one morning. They sat outside what appeared to be his home, a small structure of stone and sticks, with a magical herb garden in the back. "It is better not to disturb the dead."

"I haven't seen any ghosts yet," Sirius decided. _What's dead and gone should stay dead and gone, whether it's my family or Voldemort. I would have preferred both._ "How did they die?"

"Rawlings supporters do not long live when dark wizards arrive," the old warlock said at length. He wore no shirt and seemed to practice Divination by tossing bones in a bowl of sand. "I predicted it." _I'm sure you did._

"Rawlings?"

"Dealings of the do-no-magics concern us," the elder continued. "He put the changing regimes to rest, and restored order with the Constitution. He is president now." Sirius had been in Africa long enough to know they had a different understanding of the Statute of Secrecy, with many countries not having a specific magical government to enforce it. _If you think about it, this is one of the main functions of the Ministries around the world._

"You don't like him."

"No. I believe he is a hypocrite. Before him we had men who did what was necessary, and we removed them when we liked it. Before I continue, to whom do I speak?"

"I am a wizard who seeks dark wizards from my own land," the traveler said at length. The locals had entertained his questions out of interest thus far, but there was only so far that would go. "One of them is my brother, and I have to find him, whether he lives, dies, or has gone from me entirely."

"One of your Death Eaters, then? They were here."

"He remains my brother. Did they have anything to do with the death of that family?"

"No. That was over thirteen years ago now," the old man said, shaking his head. "I have spoken with you because I was concerned you might be a dark wizard, another one come to divide our community."

Sirius silently concluded the concern was reasonable, if grudgingly. He had hoped no one would ever mistake him for a dark wizard, or even as a member of his own family, but there was always the fear of the other, the outsider. _If he saw another Englishman, he might think the man my brother. If he saw my brother, he might think we were the same person._ He had some difficulty in telling the natives of the Kingdom of Dagbon apart, and were he being honest with himself, he knew not whether to assume the same man greeted him every morning or a different one.

"It must have taken courage to meet with me."

"Not so." the warlock responded, smiling. "You are in the shade."

The traveler blinked, not quite understanding, though it could be a local phrase. _No, they speak their own languages among themselves-_

"I see."

"You do not. One shadow overlaps the other, and darker shadows form," the old wizard explained. "You, however, have two shadows. One appears when the other disappears."

"I have heard that I am not the only one."

"You are correct. There are some here, though not as many as there were in the days of old. It is an ancient magick. Some believe it comes from here. There are other explanations."

"I don't know where else it would have originated," Sirius decided at length. "They say that Africa is the birthplace of Transfiguration, or at least where it was developed to a great extent. Turning humans into animals seems like it would be something the ancients could have accomplished."

"Can you do magic without a wand?"

"I suppose I can, if turning into an animal counts."

"Do you transfigure yourself to a dog? Do you use the same theories and understandings? Do you know how it is you are a dog?"

"I suppose it might be different, in that light."

"It is different, but not different in the way you think," the old warlock said, casting bones again. He did not seem to be recording what the future held, a true Seer or no. The traveler simply waited for him to continue. "It is Transfiguration. It is not the Transfiguration you know."

"What is it?"

"It is the original. It takes many years to understand, but when it is understood, nothing is impossible."

"Nothing? You can turn a dark artefact to a human being? You can turn one of Jupiter's moons into a theory?"

"No one knows how," the African wizard said at length. "That does not mean it is impossible."

Sirius said nothing in response, though someone else decided to intervene in the silence. It was an elderly woman, though he did not want to assume she was the man's wife. It was, of course, his best guess, though he had grown tired of being wrong about everything in the last few days.

"Does he want something? They always want something."

He only smiled to himself. Prejudice was something his family and their friends might have invented, depending on the timing, but it was not something they monopolized.

"He looks for his brother, a dark wizard. He is no dark wizard himself. His shadow is a loyal dog."

"Is he loyal to his family?"

" _He_ is loyal only to ideas," the traveler answered. _It will be a cold day in Hell before I am loyal to my family. I am responsible_ for _my family._

"What kind of ideas are those?"

Sirius kept his annoyed expression from surfacing. It was not every day he was asked to explain the hows and whys of his views; most everything seemed black and white at home. He only remembered two sides in the last war.

"I believe in equality," he said after a pause. "I don't believe in safety and security. The manors should be as dangerous as the streets. The schools should present as dark and cold a world as the insides of the prison cells and the courtrooms." He had heard long ago that making things worse for some would not make things better for all, but it always seemed close enough. In truth, he had no exhaustive theories about how systems should be run, and it was more of a personal philosophy, but if it was good enough for him, it might serve others just as well. He sighed. "More importantly, though, we need justice and law. I thought for years it was easy to tell the difference between good people and people who needed killing. They came from old, blood purist families, they were willing to use dark magic, and they killed people. Then someone applied the same standard to me."

He allowed the silence for a moment.

"What happened?"

"I was lucky to be imprisoned without a trial instead of just cursed in the back. Don't know if it was a worse betrayal when Pettigrew killed my friends and framed me for it or when Crouch took the bait and handed me multiple life sentences on suspicion after I had supported him for years."

"Crouch? I have heard this name before."

"After the war died down, the Ministry proper decided he was bad for P.R, so they moved him to International Relations. He was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before that, and if he gave me a trial, I would have lost it anyway, because I looked guilty, but he might not have wanted to risk my getting released later. He had a kill on sight policy, so I suppose my lack of resistance to being arrested was what saved me." The older people listening had developed grave expressions. "For years I admired him, I wanted him for Minister sooner or later- I even protested when Evan Rosier was brought in alive for a trial."

"What did you learn, brother?"

"A wise man told me that it is our choices, more than anything else, that determine who we are," Sirius started again. "My choices are what separate me from my family, and they should have been what separated the guilty from the innocent. Instead I got what I wanted. I was imprisoned on suspicion charges and I served thirteen years before Azkaban was destroyed and I escaped. The rule applies to the other side as well. The choices that Crouch and his people made make them evil, and that they lacked silver masks only makes them a different kind of evil."

"Perhaps it was fate that I met you today," the old wizard said at length. "I knew that I would teach, and I knew that I would learn. I did not know that it would be the same man."

"Have you seen any Death Eaters in your village?"

"Yes, one who looked like you, and another who was quite different. They were not wearing silver masks, but what they said identified them. Your brother will be going north to Morocco." he revealed, tossing a length of black hair in the sand and shaking his head. "I do not know what he will be doing there, but I warn you of the dark wizards."

"So I've heard." the traveler muttered. "I had thought he would be here, even when I heard of Death Eater presence in the northern part of the continent."

"You did not know your brother was among them, then?" Sirius shook his head. "Now you do. He went with a younger man who might have been an Egyptian."

"I thought the dark wizards in Egypt didn't want anything to do with the Death Eaters."

"There are always exceptions, or so they say," the old witch decided. _That fits with the way I understand things, oddly enough._

"I agree, actually. There are no absolutes." _I have to leave tomorrow at first light. If I go at night, I'll be exposed and no good to anyone._

"Is that not an absolute?"

"I suppose it is. Then that is the only absolute, that there are no others," he decided, somewhat annoyed by the roundabout approach. In truth, he could not tell whether the man or the woman was trying to argue for or against absolute truths.

"Is that not also an absolute?"

"Then there are two absolutes."

"A third appears," the old witch decided, her spiderwebbed eyes laughing in their near blindness. "I fear you may end up in a whole universe of absolutes."

"They're absolutes that build on each other, one implies the rest. If I know that there are no absolutes, then I know that that is the only absolute."

"So there is an absolute."

"Yes, one."

"Why that one? If there is an exception to everything, there must be an exception to such a rule."

"That's only another way of phrasing it," Sirius responded, increasingly off-put. "One implies the other."

"Yet what else does it imply? Is not death absolute?"

"Voldemort was dead."

"If he could come back, others would as well. His death was not death." _Interesting that you would have heard of him, though I suppose everyone would at some point. Using the Philosopher's Stone to restore oneself from a shade is no mean feat._

"Very well, let us assume two absolutes- death and no other absolutes. If there are any other absolutes similar to death, and I should be informed of them, I shall add them to the list." As he spoke he realized the error.

"Then you do not know there are no other absolutes. There are the absolutes you know, like death, and there are absolutes you do not know."

"Well, of course I don't know about them-" he started back.

"Fear nothing, Mister Black," the old wizard decided. "You live in a world that is mostly without absolutes. There cannot be none, and there cannot be two or more. Men say they can craft a spell that is unstoppable, but what happens when it meets a shield immovable? Any two absolutes can be found to conflict, though again you have given me something about which to think. If I see you again, living or dead, we shall have much to discuss."

"If there is only one absolute, what can it be?" the traveler asked.

"That is for you to discover, but not today, and not tomorrow. Today you must rest, and dream. Tomorrow you will seek out your brother."


	25. Trading Prisoners

The feeling he had prepared too early for the Second Task would not leave Ron alone as he walked to the meeting place. Parkinson, one of Malfoy's lackeys, had chosen the path to the train, on either side of the castle's wards as the location for the exchange, and it was easy to see why. As they had discussed, the Slytherins would at least want to look like they had no tricks in mind, so it made sense to choose a location with good light, yet it bothered him that it was close to the train, the place Hannah had floated as an alternate hideout. He had brought her with him, though Terry and Hermione were watching from a distance, having already warded the ground. In a possible lapse in judgement, he had allowed Dean to be the custodian of both of their captives, carrying them in shrunken chests. _Even money they're already dead._

The red-haired wizard sighed, looking around and waiting for the others to appear. He did not, in any possible sense, think it would be good if Hogwarts closed, and it would the second a student died under any Headmaster. It was a narrow condition, and one the school had successfully skirted ever since he had been going there, but it was perfectly final. Snape might have a chance at deflecting blame, since he had only started this year, else the attention would have to be turned somewhere else entirely.

It appeared they would be dealing with Malfoy after all, though the Slytherin witch had said only Bulstrode and Bole would be there. _Either she was lying or the plans changed._ He approached from the direction of the castle, flanked by the Beater and Nott, one of the witnesses from the duel. _It's only swapping a pair of thick wankers for clever wankers._ To his surprise, he spotted the aforementioned wankers higher on the hill.

"Seems you've brought a few too many, you bloody ponce. Weren't you taught to count?" _Five is clearly out of bounds. He can't see Hermione and Terry, and I reckon he's got someone we can't see._

"So it seems, yet it would also appear you thought we lacked the wands to sway the deal in our favor," Malfoy goaded. "You may challenge Evan to a duel at wandpoint and you may expect him to accept any given terms, and you may win a duel on even footing."

"You won't win if it's everyone and everyone," the Beater finished. "You should have stuck with the rest of the Hufflepuffs." He was indicating Hannah. _It's what they want. They want a contest between them and the others, no other options._

"Did you even bring Parvati?" Ron asked, wondering if the field had been swept of its wards. _They probably don't realize the full advantage of it; they think it's just a few quick shield charms._

"Of course," Bulstrode said, producing a shrunken box. _How quickly is that damn charm getting around?_

"You will find, however, that the trade may not go just as expected," Malfoy said. "Not only do we have a significant advantage, I believe I know a secret about your favorite Hufflepuff that she would prefer not to be released." Hannah gasped, throwing her hands up to her mouth as Bulstrode laughed cruelly. "I am sure you know just what it is, yet I can assure you none of my vassals know its exact nature." He smirked. "You have, of course, no reason to believe me other than my word."

"You literally just cheated in a duel," Hannah argued, her voice cracking slightly. "You broke an Unbreakable Vow."

"It was quite literally made to be broken, and its conditions stipulated that the requirement for me and Evan to kill those who intervene on our behalf lasts only the duration of the duel. I suppose I did not specify that my intention was to escape the battlefield, but you never told me you warded it. As I expected you would arrive here first, I decided to take precautions."

Ron heard nothing for a moment, but from the trail leading to the train he heard a shriek. Whipping his head around, he saw Hermione, Terry, Crabbe, and Goyle, the captives gagged and bound. The blonde witch next to him nearly burst his eardrums screaming. _So that's who- I knew he'd have someone hiding-_

"I hope you see our new situation, as it has developed," Malfoy said, his eyes darting between his henchmen momentarily. _He's confused. He prob'ly only sent them out to keep us from bringing reinforcements._

All wands were drawn.

"I'll take your word for it, then," the Gryffindor decided, eyes unmoving as Dean shouted at him from behind.

"Are you mad?!"

"Right. I forgot to mention, he's got both of our hostages." One of the other Slytherins made a face. "Bit of a lapse in judgement, I suppose, but I can personally guarantee that if you attack us, attempt to trick us, or... I don't know, anything else, he will destroy both of them without hesitation, no matter what happens to us."

"Then the deal proceeds as planned," Malfoy concluded, waving a hand to the complexities introduced. _He's okay with giving us Parvati if we're still hostages of his because we're outnumbered. There's also Hermione and Terry._

Dean walked slowly, and without letting his expression of cold anger fade, but he walked, staring straight at the opposing ringleader, to the point of discomfort. _He knows he's outnumbered, but he wants a fight anyway. He wants everyone to know it'll be a mistake to leave him alive._ Oppositely, Bulstrode approached him with the shrunken box. She appeared to have taken a cue on the smirk, sending one in the Hufflepuff's direction. _Wonder who would win in a fight between the two of them._

Setting his own box on the ground as he remembered he knew not how to enlarge it, he left it for Dean. Across the impossible divide, Malfoy did much the same.

"As you _possibly_ know, this ward barrier verifies the identities beyond any possible trick of any number of persons to pass through it. I am not illiterate in runes, and neither is Nott, my vassal. His ward intersects with the castle's ward barrier and can tell us exactly who passes through. I expect you had much the same arrangement with the mudblood, despite her current state." _He wouldn't have just not brought Parvati, even if he intended to beat us with numbers the whole time.  
_

On the other side, Evan surfaced from the regrown box, though he was somewhat dazed and confused. _That's how you'd expect someone who'd been stiff for more'n twenty four hours would behave._ Tracey seemed unwilling to stand up for the moment. On his own side of the invisible ward barrier, Parvati rose unsteadily and he nodded to Dean, who came back to their side quickly.

"I could not have thought of anything more foolish than performing the exchange as agreed, Weasley, and yet, this is exactly what I expected. Nott, I believe you owe me a hundred galleons or so, as you doubted anything other than the ultimate height of sentimental idiocy." The boy who lost the bet seemed none too displeased, laughing at the other Slytherin's meanness without taking his eyes off their targets. _That one's a bit cleverer than the others. Reckon I'll have to watch him._

Dean was helping Parvati to steady herself, but she refused his assistance, bidding him watch the others.

"It appears we still have some hostages of yours, blood traitor," the wizard he had been watching obviated. "Perhaps a count of the total is in order- you now have four wands to your name, while we have nine, two of which are guarding your confederates. You should really come quietly, lest they all die. The Dark Lord will be pleased to find we have entirely captured the last vestige of resistance to the nature of the war."

"But- you can't just kill all of us!" Hannah pleaded. "You simply can't... spill this much magical blood."

"Pure though yours may be, your deaths would be a necessary sacrifice and an effective deterrent for noncompliance," Nott explained, still using the almost shrill, grating tone he seemed to love so much. "The choice we present to the magical population is a fortunate one for us, as the greater mass of them will side with us before seeing their world destroyed."

"They don't want a war! Why can't you just go through the proper-"

"The war is good," Nott declared, silencing the Hufflepuff. "The world of magic has been in sclerotic contentment, and we dark wizards shall have no more of it. Our only salvation from the mass of the muggles is their destruction, and only under our leadership will it take place."

Ron gave the order to run for the trees and Dean followed, though he could not think of why. _Might be he just wants to kill me. Least I can count on Hannah and Parvati._ Fortunately the treeline was close enough and their pursuers were inclined to give them a sporting chance, seeming to find the whole situation amusing. As Ron leaped behind cover, having thrown up shield wards behind him as he ran, he watched the taunting group of enemies saunter after.

"What the hell are you doing?" the other Gryffindor wizard hissed angrily, punching him on the shoulder as he deflected a nasty looking spell with his wand.

"Hell if I know," he muttered back. "Shut up, we need every advantage-"

"Ron it's not going to fucking matter, they have five wands on us and one of them-"

"Dean about a day ago, Hermione figured out Malfoy's using Legilimency," he started to explain, casting his own shields. "Hannah'd been wondering about what he was doing in the duel, started shooting some ideas off her- doesn't matter, we're like nine out of ten sure he can use some basic form of-"

"What does this-"

"His father can use it-" the red-haired wizard started again, as the others started raising shields, which only provoked further taunting from their pursuers, who seemed in no hurry at all. Tracey was inching to the back of the formation, but he refocused his eyes on Malfoy, physically rolling out of the way of some dark spell from Nott.

"I think one of them just hit the ground," Dean commented, confused as he shielded.

"Eyes on Malfoy." Ron muttered. "There's a reason we didn't tell you about-" Another pair of their enemies fell, and this he could not ignore. "Counter!" he shouted, pressing the advantages as the four wands in the treeline switched to the offensive, hitting them with a combination of stunners and body-binds, only marginally deterred by hastily cast shield charms. The battle ended quickly with all their enemies either unconscious, bound, or both. _Numbers win every time, and we had seven on six in key positions._

"What the hell was that?!" Dean asked.

"Like I said, reason we didn't tell you about the plan-" he started as he walked over to the captives, waving to Tracey. _They've got to be around here somewhere._ "Was we needed someone who didn't know about it, and I reckon Malfoy respects you, so he'd think you're really the brains here. If you don't know the plan, then there isn't one."

"We needed you to be the one who stood out," Hannah continued, an equally confused Parvati catching up to them. "He'd pick you for mind-reading that way, or at least that was what we thought. Terry said it was pretty likely, or more likely than anything else." She waved at the pair of Ravenclaws, magically levitating the unconscious Crabbe and Goyle to the rest of the Slytherins, present and former.

"So you hit them in the back while they were focused on us?" the Gryffindor witch asked. "That doesn't explain how you got out-"

"Hermione's been looking into memory charms since the beginning of the year." Terry explained. "They're not entirely ethical, but a few minutes of blurriness can't hurt anyone. Did they sneak up on us, or did we detect them with the wards and sneak up on them? Well, it must be the former, if we're kneeling in front of them. Did they remember to take our wands? Well, why wouldn't they? What does it matter anyway, our hands were bound," Terry explained, easily removing what looked like rope from around his wrists. _Hermione must've transfigured some parchment or something to look like conjured rope._ "It's brilliant, really."

"You say everything I do is brilliant," she said, waving her wand to petrify some of the unconscious captives. _Can't be too careful, I suppose._ "I used it on Ron to eliminate some parts of the plan from his recent memory, then on Hannah. I find that if the target is willing to have some of his memories erased, it's actually much easier."

"Not that Crabbe and Goyle were a challenge for you," Terry joked. Hermione laughed for a moment, then stopped.

"How did you know they were back there?" Dean asked.

"Terry had the idea that Draco would try to swarm us when Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode attacked him to keep him from catching Parvati."

"I should have thought of it before then, really. He essentially came up with the rules so he could get around them in an unexpected way, and it's exactly the kind of thing he would do." He sighed, his worries seeming to catch up with his excitement. "We're lucky he never tried to use Legilimency on either of us, since we actually knew the whole plan. No, that was unlikely upon deciding we were no threat. We're lucky he believed Crabbe and Goyle could actually catch us unawares."

"Prob'ly the weakest point in the plan, really," Ron decided, waving his wand to retrieve the box used to contain Parvati, and then the two used to contain Evan and Tracey. "It was the best we could do on short notice, but there were a lot of reasons it would work. With how many of them there were, they were expecting a fight, but one they would probably win. When they saw Hermione and Terry were hostages, they totally tossed the idea out."

"Well, what happened when we weren't looking?" Dean asked. "I thought I hit one of them-"

"You might have," the Ravenclaw witch supposed. _She probably made him forget about the entire plan, including the bit about Tracey being pissed enough about being left behind that she'd be willing to help us for a bit of petty revenge against Malfoy._ "After we froze Crabbe and Goyle, Terry hit one, the mole hit one, and I hit one, and that was the most we expected to get before they realized something was going on. That would leave them with three, and there were seven of us including the mole." _We hit her anyway, and it's probably how she thinks the others aren't going to know she was a mole. Lucky for us, she's not the only Slytherin witch who hates Malfoy. She told us that the remaining Carrow girl would be all too happy to tell the teachers that these wankers are out muggle baiting._

_Too bad for her, though, seeing as she's not going to get to keep some recent memories._

"What are we going to do with them?"

"We leave them in chests for now," Ron said, unaware of whether or not it was the plan originally. Hannah nodded and started levitating the unconscious or otherwise immobile while her friend hit them with memory charms. "I reckon my brothers have a portkey we could toss in there, take 'em someplace far off, take a while to get back. Might be we could ransom them to the Death Eaters, haven't really considered it that I recall."

"That's it?" the other Gryffindor wizard asked, disappointed. "That's the plan, we negotiate three kids for an adult or something?"

"If it is, I don't remember. If you- or anyone else- can come up with a better idea of what to do with them, be jolly good to mention it," he decided. _He'd better not suggest killing them. 's not every day you get your girlfriend back, and more hostages than you had before._

"Well, you already know." _Merlin-_

"Most of them aren't Nott or Malfoy, you know that, right?" he asked, feeling his face flush. "You know most of them were practically born on the side they are now- and if they try to get out they die-"

"Exactly!" Dean argued. "Exactly! They can't be redeemed, they can't get out, they can't be imprisoned-"

"That's enough," Hermione interjected, performing a memory charm on an unconscious Millicent Bulstrode. _Makes you wonder what she has in there to forget._ "They can be removed from school, where they won't be a threat to any of the students, including the first-years they're _supposed_ to be protecting." She huffed. "We found a Slytherin named Mafalda who was assaulted by someone they enlisted. We don't know who it was specifically."

"Snape's not going to expel them!" Parvati argued, earning an odd look from Dean.

"I suppose he'll continue against pressure from all the other teachers?" the Ravenclaw witch asked. "The Ministry would threaten to close Hogwarts if he refused to expel them after disappearing and not remembering where they went, with the only witness saying it was muggle baiting, which is a serious Statute violation." _Carrow's technically a Beauxbatons student at this point, but she still has friends here. We have to hope they didn't tell anyone else where they were going._

"Right, and none of this is going to get back to you? You've thought it all out to where you can just throw them in a few boxes somewhere and forget about the whole thing?"

Hermione stared at Parvati a moment, looking back to Dean, then to Ron.

"Actually, that's exactly what I mean to do."


	26. The Second Task

Hermione was surprised when she learned the plans had changed.

"Snape made them change the tasks," Ron explained. "He said it was decided too far in advance, and it was basically inevitable that the champions would figure out what they were supposed to do and how exactly to do it ahead of time."

"I understood that to be part of the competition," she responded, changing something on one of her assignments. _Three grams of aconite in distilled water to a phial..._

"The other Headmasters were fine with it, but Snape hates cheaters. Apparently he got old Crouch on his side."

"I imagine that would do it," the bushy-haired witch decided, exhaling. "I wanted to see if he had ever been a member of Umbridge's faction in the Ministry, but his position was essentially a demotion. I had been under the impression his methods caused him to fall out of favor after the death of Voldemort-" the Gryffindor wizard flinched almost imperceptibly. _Well, he's in the process of getting over it._ "-sort of like how the decision to drop atomic bombs on Japan became controversial after they reduced a former seafaring empire to a non-threat."

"Drop what on- when was this?"

"Right. Basically there was this enormous war, no one you know would have fought in it, and I don't expect it will ever come up in History of Magic, but it started with Japan invading China in the late thirties, it involved quite a few counties, and they surrendered with the Americans bombing two major cities and the Soviets closing in from- anyway, the atomic bombs were experimental explosives that could destroy entire cities, and they killed between a hundred and two hundred thousand people."

"So everyone was in favor of it while the war was on, then once it was over they stopped to consider what it meant?" he asked, apparently working on one of his own assignments, though he might have been drawing something. "Did they forget the bombs were why they won?"

"It's not as if they forgot, it's a fallacious way of thinking called historical determinism-"

"I know some of those words."

"Once the Allies won, they thought that victory had been inevitable, that they always would have won, no matter what kind of strategic decisions they made. A mainland invasion would have resulted in millions of Japanese deaths, as well as Americans and Australians dying in the attempt, which ethical philosophers seriously expect them to ignore." _The Soviets would likely have taken a large part of Japan if they had been allowed to finish the war, which was likely the reason the Japanese chose to surrender to the Americans instead._

Ron seemed to be thinking, which he rarely stopped to do with his assignments, at least as far as she knew.

"I don't know much about that war, and I really don't know what I might've done, but I can see the similarities," he said at length. "You seemed like you were saying there was another thing, though."

"His son was arrested as a Death Eater," she said, standing up. _We'd better go to the stands. The Task will start soon, and if we can't do anything for Cedric, we can at least show support._

"Did he catch him?"

"No, it was reported by Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang. He was arrested for being a Death Eater himself." Ron snorted. He seemed to know where they were going.

"Bet Crouch'd do anything to get back at him. Cost him his job and forced him to put his own blood in Azkaban."

Hermione contemplated the notion as she and Ron made their way out to the Quidditch Pitch, where the Task was being conducted. She was not sure where Hannah and Terry were, but it was possible they would be catching up on work. Since Christmas holiday ended, the teachers had nearly doubled up on what they had been handing out the previous term, perhaps as a mechanism to cut down on fighting in the corridors. She had not seen Draco or any of his friends in days, which was well enough, but their studying might actually be more concerning than patrolling the school looking for fights.

On the way to the Pitch she could have sworn she heard a scream, but it seemed no one else noticed. _Someone really would have reacted- wouldn't they?_

The stands were a cacophony of people's voices, some of them in loud conversation, some of them in louder conversation to talk over the others, and some of them shouting obscenities, though she could not be sure of their direction. _I know they put the teachers in their own box so they don't have to listen to us, but they could stand to do something about the noise._

From what their neighbors, Marietta and Cho had determined, the Champions would be tasked with beating each other in a race around the school, on broomsticks or whatever other flying implement they desired.

"Damn, Malfoy's going to get Evan a Firebolt," Ron predicted as soon as he heard. _He did talk once about some brooms being faster than others._ She noted that Cedric favored a broomstick, which made sense for him as a Quidditch player, though Fleur would be using one of her school's flying horses.

It appeared, however, that the Heir of Slytherin had not shown up.

"He was winning by a considerable margin before," Cho commented. "Perhaps he decided he did not need to come back. He is like a tiger, lying in wait for the perfect time to strike." Hermione might have grimaced, but it did not make it to her face.

Below them, Crouch and another official could be seen asking the other contestants, then looking up to the faculty box, from which Karkaroff responded with an upturned hand, something he likely knew would be visible to all. _If he really never shows up- they have to remove him from the competition, right?_

The last few weeks had been fraught with investigations about where a few of the students have gone. The body of Ioseb Brdzola had been discovered, and from residual magic, to the trained eye it appeared some kind of duel had taken place. She and her friends had been suspected after a handful of the more active members of the conspiracy, but the most intense questioning yielded no results at all. Evan was among the missing, a matter of increasing concern for the Slytherins and Durmstrang students.

She was even more surprised when a confused-looking young wizard appeared next to Crouch and the other Champions, as though he had come from nowhere at all, and just as the last call was given. Shock filled the audience, though a handful of the faculty, notably Headmasters Snape and Karkaroff, were not remotely surprised.

"Explain this!" Crouch called, visibly annoyed at the greatest distance. He had a wand to his neck, which she assumed amplified his voice. "How does your student simply Apparate as a fourth-year with no prior instruction, unless you intend to tell me you have been teaching him illegally?"

The Durmstrang Headmaster responded with a bored look. _I really have no idea whether it's illegal or not to teach Apparation in Durmstrang, though Crouch even in his former position would not be the one to enforce that law. There is, however, the matter of an underage wizard performing it._

"The Goblet of Fire forms a binding magical contract," the former Potions master muttered at length, his own wand to his neck. "For those of you who did not understand the meaning of the word 'binding' the first time, there is absolutely no way of... violating the contract. Wherever young Evan was before, he is here... now." _I suppose I should be glad he did not call the official a dunderhead or anything like that._

"The Ministry will not suffer an excuse for underage Apparation!" Crouch rejoined. "It is plain to everyone here-"

"No Apparation has taken place, you utter buffoon," the Headmaster snarled, having lost his patience. Hermione had a difficult time blaming him, since he was being subjected to the same attitude Ebony had taken with her. "Perhaps you should try Apparating _silently_ if you think it possible." The majority of the students were scared into silence, though someone was openly laughing. "Perhaps you should ask your son about the difference between an Unbreakable Vow and a magical contract that is _literally_ unbreakable."

The event started more or less without further ado. Though Ron and Snape had not exactly been the best of friends, seeing Crouch humbled by someone who had not only been a Death Eater and extensively studied the dark arts, but had by all appearances gotten away with it, proved to be quite the amusing experience for the young Gryffindor. The Ravenclaw did not share his enthusiasm.

"What?" he asked as Crouch was explaining the rules of the Task for Evan's benefit.

"Those were Slytherins laughing..." she started.

"So?"

"With Malfoy missing, and their hero being embarrassed by the former Head of Slytherin... what do you think the conspirators are going to do?"

"Attack their common room? I mean, they were beaten once before..." His brow furrowed. "They'll have been working on their tactics. It'll be worse than before."

"It'll be a coordinated effort," Hermione concurred as the champions took off, magical screens with a teleprojection charm showing their positions. Evan had not taken off yet, as he did not possess a flying implement, which raised some measure of complaint. The debate starting about whether or not it was fair that he lacked one swiftly became academic as he took off, without appearing to cast any sort of charm. _I would think there are spells for independent flight somewhere in the world, or possibly in the world of dark magic._ The feat seemed to impress other spectators more. _I suppose I can't eliminate the possibility he's simply kept aloft by his own arrogant refusal to obey the laws of physics._

"I mean, if they've got this bastard defending them, who knows?" Ron suggested, perhaps hopefully, perhaps just as a general observation. It was a bizarre thought that it would be the Heir of Slytherin saving the proverbial day.

"I doubt he's interested in defending anyone," she said, staring at the screen. Evan was gaining on Fleur, who was only slightly trailing Cedric, and only slightly because of his familiarity with the castle and the grounds. _I suppose there is a good reason the location of the Tournament rotated, historically._ He created a flame whip with his wand and attempted to take out the horse's legs with it, though the animal skillfully cantered around the lashings. The rider was less passive, casting a chopping hex back at the other champion. The vertical burst of spellfire missed its target, but the message was received by the spectators, if not the target. From the response among the Beauxbatons students, Hermione decided there was a good chance the spell was more commonly used on the continent. _It was perfectly justified in this context... he did just try to kill her._

Cedric seemed intent on staying ahead, shouting a few less than dangerous jinxes out behind him, not caring whether or not they hit. There seemed to be something of a kinship between him and the French champion, or at least a lack of murderous intent, but he desired to win all the same. _I imagine he could not have profited much from our assistance._ Her eyes went wide.

"Ron, did Professor Snape interrogate you about the disappearances?"

"I mean, yeah, 'course he did. He got all of us at some point. Why?"

"There's a chance he used Legilimency on you."

"How do you figure?" Evan had gone under Fleur and was gaining on Cedric.

"Well, everyone knows cheating is part of the tournament. The issue with that is that you can't put what everyone knows on the stand and have it explain who is cheating and how, so it's not worth anything. If, however, he used the mind arts to determine who had cheated and how, he would either punish the offending students or subvert their efforts."

"I find it hard to believe he knew Hannah and I tried to help Cedric win and decided not to punish us."

"He could have known some of his favorites were helping Evan cheat."

"Why would he do anything with that? He's got to be on his side. I mean, have you seen him with Karkaroff? They're practically-" he gestured in the general direction of the staff box, where the Headmasters were seated neutrally, eyes forward. Madame Maxine looked as though she would be anywhere else. "Well, they're not best mates or anything-"

"Dumbledore trusted him and he hates cheating. Whether or not he manages to punish a few cheaters, he won't suffer the victory being determined that way. So he allows the cheaters about whom he does not know to continue to think their plans will work until the day of the Task, at which point he and the other Headmasters change the plan."

Ron seemed to accept her way of looking at it, though not without reservation.

On the magical screens it appeared that Evan was trying the same trick with Cedric, having correctly identified approaching from below as the best strategy, if not by much. The broomstick seemed to be the fastest, and the three of them were nearing the Whomping Willow, which gave her a moment of hope. _Cedric's been here the longest, while Evan was here barely two years-_

"Shit," the Gryffindor next to her muttered as the Heir managed to hit Cedric's broom with a flaming arrow, to which he responded by raising a shield charm in front of the flier, who might have died had he not avoided it with a cackle. The tree swung out at the flying horse, but Fleur seemed to take advantage of her position above Evan by casting an explosion curse behind him, forcing him into the swinging branch. With the Durmstrang Champion flying backward through the air, to the loud objection of a significant amount of the audience, it appeared the remaining contestants were intent on keeping it civil between them, but Cedric's broomstick was suffering from the fire arrow. _I couldn't hear the incantation from this distance, but it was not something he learned on this island._

A bleeding Evan was apparently unwilling to give up, or at least seemed intent on making the other contestants suffer, sending a wave of energy after Fleur as he caught up to a delayed Cedric, receiving only a stunning spell to the face. _You can't really cast a shield charm effectively if you're moving forward. A moving shield has a chance of serving the intended purpose, but it breaks your concentration._

The race ended moments later with Fleur in the clear lead and lingering doubts in Hermione's mind.

_If Professor Snape really used Legilimency on me, it has to have something to do with the note Mafalda gave me._

Only two days ago, the young Slytherin had handed her a handwritten note, saying that she, Hermione, had given it to her to be returned after she was questioned. She had since checked the parchment for curses, and over time she had it out of the girl that there had been nothing unusual about her request, other than its nature, which was obvious. _No explanation was given for why I was to be given the note, apparently from myself. Ron's foray into the Department determined there are no Inspectors, so I'm only going to have to keep telling myself that eight or nine more times._

She sighed as the pair of them rose, neither caring to hear the new point totals. _I should really remember I have more important work, both academically and consequentially. This whole Tournament is a matter of a thousand galleons- though if I'm being honest with myself Evan's sudden appearance won't leave me alone._

The Goblet being or forming a binding contract was something she could reasonably understand, but the limits of the theory seemed entirely uncertain. The magic seemed to have the power to contradict other magic, in order for it to be an absolute contract. The confused state of the Heir suggested that he had expected to be anywhere else, perhaps having used magic to conceal his position.

Making her way out of the stands, she heard a commotion forming outside through the thin walls, if they could be called that.

"Tell me you heard that."

"Yeah," Ron answered, wand out. He nodded and they went out slowly, not wanting to arrive too early to the scene. _Don't be Hannah or Terry. Please God don't be Neville._ Her thoughts did not calm as they made it outside through the crowd of students, evidently responding to the same sound, though whether to investigate or flee she could only guess.

When at last they had a clear view, the teachers had already arrived, ordering or forcing the crowd back by magic, Professor McGonagall raising a circular shield around the scene.

A Slytherin witch, one of the Carrow girls to the best of her knowledge, knelt with her wand above her head in a circle of mangled, groaning, screaming students. Some of them were from Hufflepuff, others might have been Beauxbatons, but it was all the teachers could do to contain the panic. Hermione grabbed hold of the young Gryffindor, pulling him to the front.

"Your Head of House- your former Head of House will hear about this attack on fellow students as well as _our guests_ as soon as he arrives-"

"Please, Professor, she might have been attacked herself!" she interjected, making other heads look at her.

"Were there any witnesses?" the Transfiguration teacher asked, not concealing the implication.

"Well, we reckon it might've been likely..." Ron started, trailing off. _He probably doesn't like being brought along for moral support._ "I mean, with Malfoy and the others gone, not that we'd heard anything about it..." He pointed at the bodies, most of them actively being healed by one wand or another. "Well, how likely is it she just attacked them- what is it, a half dozen on one?"

"I take it, then, that you and Miss Granger intend to speak in Miss Carrow's defense. If that is the case-" She stopped her explanation, perhaps deciding to work out the details herself. "I truly hope you know what you are doing, and you realize the consequences of your actions. War politics acquaint one with the strangest bedfellows of all."


	27. The Curious Case of Flora Carrow

"So we're defending the Carrow girl?" Hannah asked, following Hermione into the mysterious room, listening out to determine if anyone else were trying to gain entrance. Ron and Terry were already inside, practicing spells with Mafalda. _That's sweet of them._ "And what was this about our memories being erased?"

"I did it," the Ravenclaw explained, handing her a length of parchment. _That explains not turning into a werewolf in weeks... not that I wanted an explanation._ "We hid Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Tracey, Bulstrode, Derrick, and Bole, as well as Evan in a shrunken chest, though they would have been memory charmed to forget everything that would have happened since before the duel of New Year's Eve.

"Wait, so we turned on Tracey?" the Hufflepuff asked, reading the letter.

"She'd have forgotten everything that made her hate Malfoy," Ron explained, showing the first-year a basic shield. "We basically reset her to hating just us."

"Isn't that like taking a version of her and killing her?" Hannah asked.

"Do you die every time you forget something?" he returned. "It's a gray area. There's nothing fundamentally different about her, she just doesn't have a few weeks or so of memories. It's something we were willing to do to ourselves."

She racked her brain trying to determine what was missing, but of course there was nothing missing; there was nothing that she would notice. It was as if she had traveled to the future and killed her future self. _That somehow makes it seem better._

"Well, where the hell did we hide them?" She turned around sharply- _No, it's been too many days for that._

"We couldn't risk putting them in here, so we put the boxes in Hagrid's well."

"People are going to think he put them there!" Hannah objected. "Now that one of them's out, if he knew where they were-"

"I asked Neville to move them. He doesn't know what the boxes contain," Ron supplied. "Well, I didn't tell him."

Hannah sighed.

"Okay, okay, what are we doing with them?"

"Well, Flora was supposed to be telling people they've been out muggle-baiting," Terry explained, casting a wandless spell into Mafalda's shield. _I suppose it's his turn now._ "She hates Malfoy because he basically killed her sister and the all-knowing Death Eaters refuse to correct the situation because he's the only heir of his family. Yesterday she was found outside the-"

"I heard about that. Have we spoken with her?"

"We've had the chance. Basically, we're on our own. The teachers can help, but not the Heads of Houses or Snape," Ron said, visibly reminding himself Snape was no longer a Head, technically. "It'll be the three Headmasters deciding her fate, so we've got a fair chance unless he just decides to ruin us. Makes sense to assume Madame Maxine'll want to see us in graves."

"Then we don't know how they're going to rule," Hannah decided. _I can't imagine which way Karkaroff would go._ "Are at least two of them blood purists?"

"Hannah, we can't just make that kind of argument-" Hermione objected. "It will make us look like one of them."

"Don't we already? Why are we sticking our necks out for some bitch who's related to Death Eaters?" she asked, angry. _I don't get it. We're not really going to convince the people in my House that we're not supporting the blood purists and dark wizards._

"Because we can't just abandon law and justice," the Ravenclaw wizard argued. "There might not be anything worth saving if Voldemort wins, but we can't simply ensure he doesn't at its expense. He is not the first Dark Lord, and he will likely not be the last, and a civilization that simply suspends its legal system every time that happens is no civilization at all." He sighed. "There are people who won't be participating in the war, they'll avoid it at any cost, and there's a morally disturbing amount of them; it's close to ninety percent. They won't fight until their comfortable lives collapse, and when that happens they'll pick the side that puts them back straight again as quickly as possible. We need the system working, if for no other reason at all, to keep the majority out of it."

The Hufflepuff let out an exasperated sigh.

"What's the plan?"

"We're going to argue it was standard self defense," Ron said.

"How did she beat them all by herself if she didn't have the element of surprise?" Hannah asked. _Whether I believe it or not, we need a reason._

"Dark magic," Hermione explained, insufficiently. "Neville says the ground was practically irradiated with it. He did not use the word irra-"

"You can't just say she used dark magic and be done with it. That only gives her a few spells her opponents didn't know."

"It's a specialized curse; it creates a shock wave around you, dead useful, it is," the Gryffindor explained. _Well it's nice to know they all talked about it before I arrived._ "Reason we think she happened to know it was because Snape showed it in one of his classes and she asked him."

"Well he's going to deny that!"

"That's the reason we think, not the reason we're using. We're going to say that she learned it from Evan."

"He'll say he didn't."

"The only reason he hasn't been expelled yet is because he has to finish the Tournament. Durmstrang has an incredibly high expulsion rate, and he's done a fair bit more than the rest of them. They're more likely to believe her, and if they put her on Veritaserum, we'll stick with the truth. Besides, they probably won't call him to the stand."

"Well, who's representing the attackers?"

"They'll be healed before the trial starts, so they're representing themselves," Hermione explained. "We don't know what kind of arguments they can be expected to make-"

"But they'll probably say that Flora attacked them out of nowhere and it was all they could do to defend themselves. If I were on their team I would say they were all either blood traitors or conspirators, and Flora attacked them to even out the score after Malfoy and company disappeared. Since she was transferred to Beauxbatons, they'll probably say that her main targets were her own classmates, but while she was at Hogwarts she would have to take the opportunity to attack Hufflepuffs."

The legal planning took the rest of the day and went into the night, leaving her with assignments to do the following morning. It was not as exciting as most courtroom dramas, which she liked in that the characters seemed to have to come up with how the perpetrator killed the victim, but real life was even more bogged down with laws and precedents to memorize. _Doing this alone, I would have rather left the case to someone else than taken it and lost. I'm sure the junior Death Eaters would be honored to defend the last Carrow kid._

In class the following morning, she decided she knew virtually nothing about Flora herself, which probably made her judgements prejudicial, and also probably made her a bad representative. _I'll have to talk to her if I want to know anything, but I can't imagine what she'd tell me. She might think we're trying to sabotage her chances, but if she gets removed from Beauxbatons she'll just go to Durmstrang starting next year. They wouldn't care about this sort of thing on her record._ Hannah remembered that more serious punishments awaited her if she were expelled, and that the verdict from the schools' trial would essentially pass to the next court, most likely the Wizengamot.

_She really does have to count on us._

The blonde witch pretended not to hear the foreign students talking behind her on her way to lunch, not because she understood what they were saying and was trying to eavesdrop, but because they most likely did not think she could hear them at all, and it would do her no favors if anyone found out she had sharper hearing than the average human. Her sense of smell was also probably a little better, but the average human nose was so useless it was almost vestigial, and it took an animal mind to know how to interpret the scents. There was a chance she was developing mild color-blindness, which made her feel somewhat less feminine, but it was a sight better than fur.

By the time she was done with classes, it was another round of assignments, each more time-consuming than the last. Potions even required actual brewing, this time an extended invisibility potion, which was more complicated than she had thought it would be. Upon reaching level two or three, she had been under the impression that the time component of potion effects could be explained by the quantity of the finished product, or a single ingredient. The theory and practical data turned out to be inconsistent with her hypothesis, though she would have to get used to that. Having been raised ignorant of the magical world, that was the expectation, and what Terry had been saying about making reasonable assumptions that she had to be ready to modify at any time was steadily making more sense.

She decided to find Flora rather than meet back up with the group, which some combination of them had taken to doing most every night. It stood to reason it would be hard to find a witch accused of magically reducing several students to a bloody, screaming heap, but Hannah managed it. She had sat with Mafalda at the Slytherin-Durmstrang table, closing her eyes and listening for relevant conversation, waiting for the girl next to her to tug on her robes as the target passed by. She stole a glance, wondering for a moment if she had seen the witch before having a section of her memories erased.

_She said she was going to the library to pick up a book that might help with an assignment. Why do I think it's a coded message?_

The Hufflepuff's contemplation took place on the stairwell, wondering what else could be meant by the library. _She might actually be going to the library, but there's no way that's all she's thinking of doing._ Making her way there, finding the stairs oddly cooperative, she discovered her client of sorts at a public table, alone. _No need to hide when no one wants to sit next to you, I would imagine._

"Hello," Flora began politely. "Are you here to attempt to kill me?"

"No. I'm one of the ones representing you," she responded, sitting across. _Look at that, she actually has books out. I don't think they're law books, but..._

"I'm as capable of representing myself. I would not like to reveal the arguments I intend to make, unless I can interest you in a lie."

"Yeah, and I have my own secrets. I don't want to be here either," Hannah nearly growled. "Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't just have my friend erase your memories and be done with it? You could pass a lie de- a Veritaserum test saying that you can't use whatever spell they're accusing you-"

"There is no need," Flora answered with an odd degree of serenity. "My defense is entirely prepared. I have anticipated not only their arguments, but also their attack. It was not for nothing that I studied dark magic, and it was not for nothing that I used it."

"Don't tell me-" she started, attempting to read the spines of the books.

"I have the Gift."

The other witch let out an exasperated sigh, her fingertips over her closed eyes. Hermione had only managed to vaguely figure out how Divination was supposed to work, and the theory only barely overcame the enormous leaps of logic the instructor and the course material seemed to take. The first thing, she remembered, that made little sense about the class and apparently the books were all the different ways the future could be determined, and that the theory seemed to change for each one; tea leaves remained in a cup based on the magic that the drinker was putting into it, the crystal ball was a product made by a magical craftsman who had some understanding of the theory, and Astronomy was a field of study all on its own. The mere possibility that all these different causes and competing theories would all lead to the same future was questionable at best.

"Well, have you determined that you're going to get away with this?"

"It's not so simple as that," Flora answered. "The Inner Eye warns me only of the most ambiguous notions." _Well, that might be more frustrating for you than it is for me, but your attitude hardly gives that away._

"Well, what do you know about the future?"

Flora glowered for only a moment before getting a book out of her bag.

"Consider the aorta. This is the present, and this is where you act on decisions. Major arteries that lead away are the near future. This is where you make decisions."

"Okay." _I imagine the capillaries are all the consequences and further decisions._

"I make decisions in the arteries based on what I know of the capillaries. My actions continue to take place in the aorta, but they set up for future actions." It reminded her of something Ron and Hermione had been discussing about chess. A computer program could see all the ways it could possibly lose, and simply avoid all of them by making moves that closed the worst possible decision trees. The human player's decision would close other decision trees, but the computer could see all that remained, and closed the ones that would lead to loss, meaning the human player was really only picking one way to die over another. It was an interesting conversation to overhear, especially since Ron knew about as much about computers as she did.

"So there are capillaries that give you a generally positive response, and ones that do the opposite?" Hannah guessed.

"More or less. I would have to explain the theories about symbols and their meanings to explain my visions and why I make decisions based on them," the Slytherin witch said, going through the book on the table. "I believe the scholarship refers to me as a soothsayer, receiving accurate, but limited, frequently fatally misleading ideas of the future."

"How do you ever survive?"

"Logical skills are perfectly essential. I must be careful not to draw conclusions too easily. For example, I may learn that if I live for the next few days, and I encounter an ogre as a consequence of living, seeking out an ogre will not make me any more likely to survive the next few days."

Hannah mostly followed, though it sounded more like Hermione's specialty. _She might be right about being able to defend herself in court._

"We were thinking we could help you gather evidence. Do you know the names of the people who attacked you?"

"Many of them are still in the Hospital Wing, I believe. I do not know them."

The Hufflepuff witch frowned briefly. Most physical wounds could be resolved in a matter of minutes, though some were more complicated than others. If the injured were still receiving care or still recovering for any amount of days after the incident, their injuries were either truly disastrous, or worsened by dark magic. There was a chance that her friends' theory about the castle's warding was the only reason they were still alive. _Hermione and Terry know little the warding around the school, but the trend is that there have been more than a few times when a student or faculty member should have died, but lived. Supposedly, Hogwarts has an incredibly low rate of student deaths in the centuries it has been open, so we can assume any explanation in the warding would likely go back to the Founders._

"I'll check them out," she decided. "If any of my friends talk to you in the next few days, I recommend you at least hear them out. They really want to help you."

"I suppose I can recognize them by their naivety."

Hannah walked off without saying anything, lacking a clever remark at that particular time. _I always think of something, but I almost always think of it too late._ Over the last few weeks of ignorance of her memories, which started before the duel where they lost Parvati, she still had more than enough in her mind to keep her awake at night. It made her feel bad, being distracted by what was important, whether Hermione obliterated it from her mind or not, but she remembered receiving no reward in the form of being less stressed.

Even what might have been an enjoyable conversation with Susan ended up making her head hurt. She tried to tell her a little of what was going on with Ron, saying that she had a boy she liked and reason to believe he liked her. Her friend could not really offer any helpful advice about their situation without knowing more about it, and Hannah decided she was better off alone than risking the whole school finding out her secrets, but Susan surprised her by saying she was happy for her, and whatever happened, if she ever decided it would be okay to talk about it, she would be willing to listen.

_Well, I still don't think I can tell her I'm a werewolf._


	28. Longbottom to the Rescue

It had been a confusing reunion, but Draco managed to keep from overreacting. Regrettably, he could not say the same for his vassals.

The Longbottom heir had discovered them stunned, petrified, and trapped in shrunken chests. At the time, he had half a mind to leave the boxes closed, but a wave of his wand over the fungus he had planted in the area determined that there had been a duel, with some residual magic from stray spells, unactivated shield wards; it was enough to warrant an investigation. Enlarging and opening the boxes, he was more than a little surprised to find several Slytherins inside, and he targeted a finite at Bole, who had had the misfortune of being conscious the entire time, trapped in a box without the benefit of his memories. Asking around, it seemed that none of his vassals could remember the last few weeks, as according to their unlikely hero it was sometime in February.

"How the hell did we get in these boxes?!" Bole asked loudly, kicking the one that had confined him, if a touch weakly. _I suspect being stunned slowed my metabolism, though the same would not be so for him._

"We may presume that the duel went the worse for us, though I confess I remember little of it," the leader explained. _In truth I remember nothing of the duel, only our opponents, as we learned of them before it took place. Since more than enough time took place between the duel and today, I cannot say for certain the duel was the cause of our more recent predicament, but I can identify nothing else._

"What had you looking over here?" Goyle asked the Hufflepuff, having a rare moment of insight.

"Well, someone said there were boxes over here, as a rumor of sorts, but I don't entirely remember who. I've been looking for you for days."

"Good show, Neville," Bulstrode said, stepping closer to him and biting a lip. _I'll curse you if you dare._ Draco took his wand out, deciding his friend of sorts would never see a kiss coming. Fortunately Crabbe clapped him on the back before heading up to the castle. _His hunger would have already caught up to him._

"Has Parkinson been looking for us as well?" he asked, taking the lead and bidding Longbottom catch up to him.

"Well, 'pparently there was a rumor about where you were. I don't remember what it was, but it must've given her reason to think you'd be coming back on your own." _The amount of time we've been gone is enough to get us expelled, you oaf. If we are unable to remember the reason for our absence, even Snape will have a hard time defending us before the school governors step in._

He had given a mixed reaction when he learned that his former Head of House was chosen to be Headmaster. He was, after all, a wizard against whom Draco had sworn revenge, but there was a chance the war had just been won in a stroke. With two positions vacant, both could be restaffed by Death Eaters as planned, and the school would be theirs overnight.

The problem was the Triwizard Tournament.

Essentially, the school would be stuffed with foreign diplomats, Ministry officials, and more students than ever before, with a heavy bias to the higher levels of education. It was the wrong time to stage a coup, and the spots still needed filling. In hopes the curse on the Defense position would eliminate him, Snape had tried to give it to an old friend of Dumbledore's, but he insisted he was underqualified, having no background in education. He was willing to do any sort of menial task associated with being a Headmaster or a teacher, but Draco was not the only one to doubt it would be enough to eliminate him by the end of the year. Slughorn was another irrelevant fence-sitter, more likely than anything else to disappear at the last minute.

At the very best, the coup was put off by a year, which could well be long enough for the opportunity to be lost entirely.

Reaching the castle, the vassals and their leader were unanimous in their decision to stop at the Great Hall, as it was early in the morning and breakfast was likely starting. The enormous room fell into a hush as they entered, taking their usual seats and helping themselves, pretending to ignore their reception entirely. _I have trained my men well. They will act as though this is the kind of response they expect._

"Good sign so far," Goyle muttered, forcing himself to swallow first. "Castle hasn't rejected us yet. Might be we haven't been expelled."

"Might be that, or it might be that we're guests," Crabbe responded. He seemed to be eating as quickly as possible, lest someone come and take his food from him. _Well, he is no vassal, let him eat as he will._

The rest of them seemed to be having an unrelated discussion, possibly trying to assemble their memories, some wondering how the Second Task had gone. _Merlin, we've been away._ His fist briefly tightened around his fork. _Death is too good for whoever did this to us._

"Neville, precisely what has happened since we disappeared?" he asked. The guest of honor sat across from him.

"They did the other Task. Evan was there, but it was weird since it looked like he Apparated. Can't remember how he got there, unless they didn't say." He checked his Remembrall. "They didn't say. He didn't end up winning, he actually got stunned and didn't finish, but that's how it is sometimes. Don't believe I could've done any better." _I do not believe you could._

"Has the school made any announcement? I seem to remember quite the fuss when Weasley disappeared."

"Well, they did, but it wasn't any good. They seemed to think all of you decided to go somewhere together. I mean, this many can't just go missing."

"Then we're being expelled and there's nothing we can do about it," Crabbe decided, a glum expression forming. His face seemed to vary between that and an angry version of confusion. _It may be worth it to find Professor Snape to see if anything can be done. Of course, there is always room at Durmstrang._

Draco had been interested in the school for years, it had even been his preference, but in the beginning there was no way of pulling it off. Though they could instruct him in dark magic, it was his lord father's opinion that Hogwarts was the better school on the whole, and he more recently revealed it was better he spend his formative years away from remnants of Grindelwald's faction. As what felt like a much younger boy, he had a childish notion of getting out of his family's shadow and proving himself alone in the foreign school, which he deeply regretted. Trying to distinguish himself as a great wizard of his own right was a peacetime fancy, and entirely unnecessary. Other wizards could say that they had great deeds and great talents, but only he could claim heirship to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy.

He decided to represent his vassals in going to the Headmaster's office, which was protected by a password he had out of a Prefect.

"Professor Snape," he opened, before being magically lifted and planted in the seat before the desk. The room was unchanged since the departure of the previous school master, though in the dark wizard's defense he already had an office, and one that was exclusively his own.

"Do make yourself comfortable, Draco," the former Potions master muttered. "I expect in the next few minutes, you will be quite... uncomfortable." A lazy wave of the wand was sufficient to spin him around in his chair. "Unless I am mistaken, last year I caught you out of bed on official business as you claim, which led to the mysterious disappearance of Miss Carrow. You have squandered not only your actual potential, but the assumed potential of your House, and the generous latitude you have been granted to compensate for past mistakes. In your absence, a band of Hufflepuffs and Beauxbatons students plucked up the courage to attack the remaining Carrow daughter, who now stands trial for expulsion, after which she will be tried at the Wizengamot for attempted murder if Weasley, Granger, and a smattering of others prove unsuccessful in her defense."

The young Slytherin's expression had gone at some point to a blank, open-mouthed stare. He contained himself quickly.

"Sir-"

"I do not care to know the exact nature of your previous punishment, but it appears it was insufficient. Still you are inclined overmuch to act on your own, childish impulses without consulting me. Perhaps the Dark Lord would applaud your initiative, but he would snap your neck if he saw the results." Draco did not attempt Legilimency around Snape, whom he understood to be a master, but it was perfectly unnecessary to hear the truth of his words. "Every chance you were awarded to redeem yourself has been a sour mistake, your accomplishments minimal and your failures many."

"Sir, I was kidnapped," he objected at last. "Use the mind arts if my word does not suffice. I came here, well, after recovering, to represent my vassals in our explanation of our absence." Snape wore a disinterested expression. "Expel us if you must, but I urge you not to force us from the grounds. For me to begin to pay my debt to the Carrow family, I must defend Flora, and to do so I must remain as a Durmstrang guest."

"How and why were you kidnapped?"

"My memory was erased, likely with a memory charm. In either event, you will discover with the mind-"

"Perhaps I should acquaint you with a Pensieve. Was Evan with you?" There was a note of concern in his eyes, if not in his voice.

"I have reason to suspect as much." _I do not remember._ "The last thing I remember is that he informed me that he had been challenged to a duel against a few blood traitors."

"Midnight of the thirty first, I presume?" Snape asked. "That would explain the disappearance of Ioseb Brdzola." He waved away Draco's confusion. "Headmaster Karkaroff mentioned it to me."

"Sir, with respect, I know that the Dark Lord-"

"Then you had better forget. Again, you speak out of station. As I am tasked with your protection, I am to protect you from suicidal notions if I would rip- them- from- your- skull."

A moment passed.

"I can be almost certain that the duel is the explanation of my absence-"

"Weasley has the wit of a stewed leek, Draco. He would not learn the memory charm without accidentally using it on himself."

"One of the others-" _I would give him at least the wit of a live leek._

"You cannot remember the duel. Perhaps you imagine it was Miss Granger; it does not matter. To anyone outside this room, your sudden appearance in a box was merely a clever excuse, and you used the ever-reliable Longbottom to discover you and forget why. Before you ask, there is no way of recovering memories erased by the memory charm."

The young Slytherin squirmed slightly, having had to remember not to resist as his head was being examined.

"Sir, if you and I both know that my absence was not voluntary, the best solution for our interests would be to expel me, but not remove me from the grounds."

"Your intention, however, is to continue to work for the Dark Lord?" Snape asked.

"Of course," he responded without allowing his confusion to show.

"Then you need to be aware he punishes failure, not negligence. For whatever reason, you were not in school doing your duties for over a month. A Slytherin nearly died on your watch, and his favored apprentice along with him. Had he been your Headmaster, you would have been dead a dozen times over." _I expected some punishment. I did not, however, expect it would venture beyond expulsion._

"What is my punishment, sir?" _I would sooner leave it to you than the Dark Lord. Perhaps there is a lesson for me there._

"You will suffer indefinite detention with Mr. Filch. You are not to use magic during the time he is watching you, and if any attempt to skirt the conditions is discovered, you will be removed from the grounds."

The Malfoy heir might have objected, as he still needed to do something about the Carrow girl, but he remembered his vassals were active. _I need to improve my Occlumency skills if he can enter so easily._

"Perhaps, sir, there will be time for-"

"No," Snape responded.

"Perhaps, though-"

"No."

Draco performed a curt inclination of the head and left without another word. _His interest in Evan's case might have distracted him from his disappointment toward me. It matters not, I need to find the others; I expect my detention is already in effect._

Derrick and Bole were easy enough to find as they had been looking for him, and a quick sweep of Legilimency at a range could not detect their exact thoughts, but he could tell they meant to resign.

"I'm afraid the news is as ill as we expected," he started, going past them to have them follow him. "We have been expelled, and as the leader I have received indefinite detention, and within a year we shall find ourselves at Durmstrang, where we shall have no connections but each other. I must warn you, from what I know from the Heir, it is a dangerous place for a lone wizard, especially a foreign one." Their expressions might have shifted, though he was not looking.

"Where are you going?" Derrick asked.

"I have a temporary excuse that I do not know where the detention is, so I go to the dungeons first, in hopes I meet anyone that may help me with Flora's case."

"We heard about that," the same Beater said, catching up. "We were going to ask if we could be assigned to her protection." _You tell a likely story. I have every expectation that she will be sufficiently protected, though the school will not be aware or pretend not to be aware that trials are not good enough for Hufflepuffs. If what Longbottom says is any indication, additional measures of protection they will not expect has a reasonable chance of proving perfectly necessary._

"Bole may watch her with his minions if he should like, I shall have you watching him. Wherever I am sent, I need Davis and Nott, should they fail to appear before me on the way there." _Our resident experts in dark magic, as they style themselves, will find it quite the challenge to accomplish the task I have planned._ "Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode should be sufficient for the next phase of the plan."

Thinking on it, it was better after all that his two most loyal henchmen were not actually vassals, as they could keep an eye on those who were well enough without the title, and the vassals, allowed a little friendly competition, would speak freely in their presence, thinking them incompetent. _They have only themselves to blame for that. I have done my due diligence in inciting them to learn magic, but I am no teacher._ For a time he had hoped that their 'simple wizard's wisdom' would be useful, but it appeared only to function at its own convenience. Essentially, Crabbe and Goyle enjoyed the occasional advantage of clear sight when the minds of greater complexity were clouded by abstraction. A normal wizard had ways of looking at things and for the most part it served him well. Perhaps he was an optimist, and he looked on a scene of a child crying and assumed the poor dear was crying over nothing, or nothing that could not be fixed right away. His henchmen spared no mental effort to assume, nor did they appear to have any particular way of thinking about things they observed.

_The next phase of the plan involves capturing a Hufflepuff- no first-year will do, I need someone with magical power, and the three of them will be perfectly suited for the task. I suspect they will go after Macmillan without thinking about it._

It occurred to him that he had not seen the wizard since the previous year, though there were numerous explanations for that. It would be wise for the Hufflepuff to avoid him, especially with his expanded influence, though he had a momentary fear that Macmillan had gained influence of his own. Out of all those in his House, he seemed to be the most impassioned, and with their ideology, cooler heads rarely prevailed. From what Longbottom had told him, they were convinced all rulings in the Wizengamot could be explained by the blood of the defendant. A pure blood on trial for his life was being let off due to blood if he were proven innocent, and was being spared harsher punishment if proven guilty, no matter what punishment he received.

It was at long last that he found Padma on the stairs, having dismissed Derrick and Bole. She threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her face. _I was wondering when I would see you again._

"I've been so worried... I've been asking around among the Slytherins and they said you were probably off muggle-baiting, and I knew that wasn't..." she trailed off.

"Everything's all right, dearest," he managed, putting his arms around her waist. _Everything will be when the perpetrators of this travesty are cold in the grave. The list of suspects is mercifully short, though I have rivals as well as enemies._ "There's something I have been wanting to tell you, actually. It has plagued me all the time we've been apart."

Her dark eyes asked the question.

"Perhaps it would be better, though, if we found a secluded place," he said, smirking only to himself. "I believe I know of one."


	29. Court Martial

Ron was grateful that the defendant was not given the choice of a jury trial. She would have been significantly harder to defend, at least according to what Hermione said, and without a bench trial, she would be going to the Wizengamot no matter what the verdict was. _Fat chance she'd get even anyone who sympathized with her, and then anyone who'd be willing to sympathize from the jury box._ Presently, he had no idea why Flora seemed to prefer a jury trial, other than a desire to see it go to the real court, and he had not the slightest idea why she would want that.

He and Hermione were the only official legal representatives, though Hannah and Terry were allowed to be there in the audience. The Great Hall had been redecorated entirely, the furniture having morphed into more convenient seating. The High Table was more or less the same, with the three Headmasters in the middle, McGonagall functioning as a clerk of court, and other teachers from each school present for legal clarification. Perhaps because of his supposed neutrality in the case, Headmaster Karkaroff was between Snape and Madame Maxine. _Guess he could've just sat there first and everyone else worked around him._

For better viewing, the tables had either been vanished or converted into pews, which made it feel oddly like a parochial court to some, though he knew not the difference himself. The defense table was on the judges' right, with the prosecution to their left. In the interest of the remotest idea of fairness, the prosecution would be a pair of students, Megan Jones and an older wizard from Beauxbatons whom Ron did not recognize. As Professor Sprout explained, there had been an invitation for students from either of the injured schools to represent their schools, making the leadership of those schools an uninterested party, and therefore able to act as judge on the matter. The reason there was even a trial at all, when usually Headmasters could simply dismiss students without allowing them to defend themselves, was because of the unprecedented nature of the charge, an attack by a single Beauxbatons, formerly Hogwarts, student on several others, including those from another school. The setting, a Task in the Triwizard Tournament, where all the schools were meant to have equal authority and equal responsibility, complicated matters further.

The prosecution's opening statement was first.

"Headmasters and Headmistress, the scourge of blood purism and the stakes of this trial do not warrant participation from students willing to stand in the way of justice," Megan began. "With it established, however wrongly, that students at this school will act as counsel out of place, we, the discontent, urge the final authorities to either rule unilaterally on the expulsion of the offending student, else hear the arguments and come to the correct conclusion." She paused, taking a look around the courtroom, most likely noticing the expelled Slytherins sitting close to the front. "In that case, rest assured that we shall present evidence more than sufficient to prove the validity of sentencing the defendant." _The validity of sentencing her, not her guilt. Never change, fucking wankers._

Hermione was to give the next statement. She had asked him to watch and give her advice if he thought of anything. _Prob'ly feels bad about dragging me into it. Well, that and she doesn't think I'd be asking the questions appropriately._

"Headmasters and Headmistress, teachers and students all, the defendant and counsel do not deny the _actus reus_ of using dark magic on a number of students, but no prosecution would be able to establish a _mens rea_ , and for this reason the court will find the defendant not guilty. The defense reserves the right to object to unrelated, external factors that the prosecution may introduce." Her eyes flitted in his direction briefly to see him nodding. _Reckon she's not used to public speaking._ "Finally, the defendant and counsel would like to thank you, the presiding, for allowing these proceedings in the best interest of justice."

With the plea established in the statement, the prosecution called the first witness by her given name, Leanne.

"I object, sirs and madame; the prosecution personally knows the witness, and the witness is a personal enemy of the defendant," Hermione stated. Snape leaned forward.

"Miss Granger- the defense and the prosecution will remember that every student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knows near every other. If two are chosen at random, chances are they... despise each other."

She nodded her head and allowed the questioning to continue. It was something they had hoped would work, Hannah's idea, because cancelling out virtually all the evidence would tilt things in favor of the defense, as Hogwarts had an ancient rule that supported presumption of innocence, of which the late Headmaster was a strong proponent. They had not, however, hinged the case on it.

The first witness for the prosecution essentially told the court and its audience that Flora had attacked them when she heard them voicing their distaste for blood purism and Death Eaters. Megan asked her if she knew whether the defendant was a blood purist or not, and Hermione objected to the irrelevant question, readily sustained by Snape, without contest from the other judges. Counsel for the prosecution smiled and withdrew the question politely.

On the cross, Ron asked the witness if she and the others had any relation to each other, and she said nothing other than a shared animus against blood purism and dark wizards.

"Never met the Beauxbaton's bunch before, then?" he asked. "Just walked up to them and asked them if they liked dark magic or not?"

"I don't know if they usually associate with each other." _Damn. Reckon she was ready for something like that._

"Well, be aware that 'least one of the judges knows about their associations, or she can get an idea. Perhaps you'd like to change your answer?"

He received an objection for a leading question and testifying to the judges. _Forgot I wasn't supposed to ask a question more than once, or 'least not twice in a row. Gets confusing out in those vagaries._

"My apologies. I don't have any more questions," he concluded.

Over the past few days, Hermione and Terry had been madly studying the law, while Hannah had been collecting facts about the case and he had been protecting the defense's witnesses, including the defendant herself. Oddly enough, Crabbe and Goyle had offered to help, but he remembered they had an interest. _'S prob'ly just pure bloods helping other pure bloods. Can't imagine why they'd care if she's guilty or not._

The prosecution called the next witness, an injured Beauxbatons student.

"Did you know the other victims?" Megan Jones asked, after going over their version of events again. _Asking multiple people on the same side is going to get the same result._

"I object," Hermione said, looking up respectfully. "Counsel is testifying to the presiding by stating that the injured students were victims, presupposing _mens rea_."

" _The presiding_ are not being led astray by the wording of the question, Miss Granger," Snape explained. _I wonder when the other two are going to say something._ Karkaroff appeared bored, which at least meant he was not wrathful toward Hermione.

"Did you know the other students attacked by the defendant?" the Hufflepuff rephrased. The wizard from the prosecution's table said something in French, presumably the same question, presumably to eliminate any chance of misunderstanding. _Lucky there's a French judge, or they'd be passing along secret messages._

"We were friends," the witness answered. "I did not know if the others knew each other. It seemed like they did."

 _Well, that's the catch there. For us to argue that they decided to attack Flora, they had to know each other ahead of time. Lucky Hannah saw that one coming._ During her investigation, she used the color change charm on her hair and skin to make herself look pale, with long, black locks. Not recognizable as herself; not entirely out of place was the general idea for listening in on conversations. _It's a damn good thing she can hear well. I mean, not really under the circumstances, but I'm sure Flora is happy about it._

Hermione crossed after the witness was done explaining the same series of events.

"Do you have other friends?" she asked. " _As tu des amis- dautres amis?_ "

"Mademoiselle Granger and... everyone else... will remember to speak in ozer languages only if ze question is exactly the same. I shall not confirm your translations every time." _I wonder if she knows my name. Well, she'll find out if I object to something._

"Of course, Madame Headmistress." Turning to look at the witness, he said he had no other friends.

"Objection, that's not what you said in your affi- whatever the statement is," Ron called out, looking down at the length of parchment in front of him. "You said the three of you separated from your other friends that morning. I believe you were-"

"Counsel will direct objections to the presiding," Professor McGonagall reminded him.

"Objection sustained," Madame Maxine muttered. "Do not do it again."

Megan appeared to have an idea, looking around as if someone would see her thoughts. _Malfoy might've, unless Hermione wiped that out. I don't remember how far back she went._

Hermione proceeded to ask if he knew anything about the defendant before the incident, and he denied any such knowledge. _Couldn't really ask Leanne that. Everyone here knows something about her._ She asked if his friends knew anything about Flora, and the question was deemed improper, but she argued that the prosecution had entered their statements into evidence. Looking through their evidence again, Ron picked up the Slytherin witch's wand, which had been found to have helped her cast dark magic. _Not much physical evidence, though that's to be expected. Self defense issues usually have about the same evidence as the unjustified side of things._

The Ravenclaw concluded by asking if he or anyone with him had cast magic at her or threatened her.

"No. We had no idea she would attack us."

The inexperience of the respective sides of solicitors turned what might have been a quick trial into one that was dragging through the evening, so the Headmasters agreed on a recess, allowing everyone involved to get back to a mountain of assignments. _Bet Snape'll still blame me for letting it pile up if I complain I'm defending one of his old favorites._

He found out from Hannah that their Ravenclaw friends had volunteered to duplicate their work where it was possible, leaving the two of them to 'confer with their client', as Hermione had apparently put it.

"I get the idea that she's seen some lawyer shows," the blonde witch decided.

"That a muggle thing? Never mind, is Mafalda still holed up in the room?"

"I think so. She just kind of does her assignments in there and reads the books the others bring in when she's bored."

Ron frowned. One one hand, he did not like that she lived in fear of the rest of her House, but really she was no different from him and Hannah, if not the other two. It had been more than a year since he had set foot in the Gryffindor dormitory, and the Prefects knew not to bother checking for him, nor had they, by all appearances, brought the matter to the attention of their Head of House.

They found Flora, as expected, in the Headmaster's office with Professor Lupin. _I guess it's hard for most students to get in._

"Good day, Miss Abbott. This is Mr. Weasley, then? I knew your father," the wizard started as he strode over for a handshake. The red-haired wizard was somewhat taken aback by the politeness being expressed, but he responded in kind.

"Uh, sorry, can we have a moment with... our client?" Hannah asked. "I mean, unless you have some advice to offer or-"

"I believe I might be of some assistance. I'm very much in support of what you're trying to do. A good friend of mine went to Azkaban for years without so much as a trial." _Can't say I'm surprised._

"Do you know something about law?"

"Yes, actually. I was something of a 'good boy' when I was in Hogwarts, usually getting my friends out of trouble rather than partaking in it myself. At one point I had the idea of being a barrister."

"Well, have you looked over the facts of the case?"

"I have, but I expected that your client would refuse to talk to me," he answered, leaning against the unoccupied desk. "She surprised me, though, unless she's lying."

"What did you tell him?" Hannah asked, perhaps not wanting to act like she was not in the room.

"Just what I have told you," Flora answered, tossing her hair as she turned. "The injuries I have inflicted are irrelevant, as they are only felt by mudbloods and blood traitors."

Ron scowled. _Bloody Hell, Hermione, she's basically Malfoy with a cunt._

"As you might imagine, this complicates matters," Professor Lupin explained. "No direct examination of her by the prosecution will be allowed, but she would look extraordinarily guilty if we were to keep from questioning her ourselves. At that point, they will be allowed to cross examine."

"What do you recommend?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"Your friend was clever to say the case had nothing to do with blood purism or its opposition, and the views of the defendant are perfectly irrelevant, legally speaking."

"It'll make it look like she might have just done it out of spite, though." _There goes any hope we had of keeping them from establishing motive._

"We Slytherins do not attack at random, or as our passions dictate. We also do not attack in such unfavorable numbers," Flora explained. "I am not guilty, and yet there was no crime to commit. I need not defend myself if the judges are of the proper mind."

"Well, no, you don't attack in unfavorable numbers, you only attack when you're sure you're going to win because you're a bunch of cowardly bullies," the Gryffindor accused.

"Call us what you like. Your criticism will be ineffective and the opposing armies will be destroyed. The history of books will regard us as heroic."

"See, you're doing it again!" Ron yelled, reddening. "You're just making it so damn obvious that you don't care about the truth and you don't care about virtue that it makes everyone- pretending- like Malfoy with his stupid protection racket look like idiots." It was the defendant's turn to scowl. "Like, he's out there every day trying to prove that he cares about magical blood. It's not working, but he's claiming to protect all the younger students." _She has to know about Mafalda._ "So what you're saying is that either he isn't really trying or that he's just pants at it."

"Where has he failed?" Flora asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Mafalda- don't you know what they did to her? They didn't just fail, they did the opposite of what they were supposed to do."

"That witch is of the lowest blood allowable in the great House of Slytherin," she answered, taking on a more condescending tone than before. "Really, she should be grateful that it was likely a pure blood, because if they were to marry, her brood would be of a greater quantum than she."

Ron was grateful Hannah hit her before Lupin threw up a shield charm. _Well, 'm only grateful as I didn't have to do it myself._

"It's not advisable to abuse your client," the assistant teacher said through his teeth. _Least he's about as angry as everyone else._ "...especially not when you know what happens to people who attack her for her views."

"She wouldn't- even remotely, in any way, be justified in doing that!" the red-haired wizard argued, figuring it out as he went. "You can't just use a bone-breaking, flesh burning wave of dark magic if someone hits you, that's completely different! If she sent that kind of thing at Hannah, I'd hit her with a killing curse right then and there."

"Good. You're learning," Professor Lupin said as Flora touched a reddened cheek. "What makes it different? What makes defending yourself justifiable, and where does it stop?"

"It depends on what kind of threat they pose, I guess," he said at length. If the Hufflepuff had different thoughts on the matter, she said nothing. "I can't see why it would matter what kind of spell they use, since they could just be better than you, or there could be more of them, or something else." He thought a moment. "Well, what I'm trying to say is it's not always a duel, and it's not always equals. If a muggle tried to attack me when I was five or something, and for some reason all I could do was a killing curse, I guess I'd have to use that."

"You're getting close to the essential question. What choice do you have? If you are faced with a choice between dying and anything else, the law can't expect you to choose dying," the older wizard explained. "If Flora here, deserving though she might have been, would have died when six people attacked her, she is permitted to use whatever means necessary to survive. Magic affords us a great variety of means to prevent harm to ourselves, including shield charms, stunning spells, and methods of escape. One would think, that given the opportunity, a witch or wizard in danger would be obligated to use something in the neighborhood of the least violent means that would allow him or her to survive. Your task in court, as you attempt to establish the applicability of the self defense exception, is that Flora's response to an assault by six witches and wizards of her age range was within reasonable bounds." He looked back and forth between them before leaving, perhaps to return to his work. "If you have any further questions, I believe you know where to find me. Otherwise, I wish you the best of luck."


	30. Redirect

_I hope Hannah's been taking good notes._

Hermione was aware that she and Ron resented defending Flora, but really they could only imagine. She knew exactly what kind of girl the Slytherin was, and she hated her. _I have to pretend that I have faith in her innocence. Well, non-guilt, but I can't just sabotage her defense. That means we have to directly examine her.  
_

"Witness for the defense," Snape muttered, almost as bored as Karkaroff. Their team had only one witness besides Professor Lupin, who had only just testified that he had used dark magic to defend himself in the past, including the killing curse, the illegality of which was suspended by Crouch during the war. He explained that against six wands, unless they were all first-years, an immediate, violent response was the only effective recourse if Apparation and advanced shielding were impossible. It was quite spectacular that she knew such a dark curse, but the story checked out. The prosecution had called Evan to the stand in hopes of associating him with Flora, or possibly disproving the defense's explanation of how she learned it, but the Heir of Slytherin denied them on all counts. Nowhere in his affidavit did he so much as say her name, and demonstrated no knowledge of the defendant on the stand, answering that he really only pointed her in the right direction when she asked him about defensive dark magic, and he had not spoken to her since. There was a serious chance he was committing perjury, but there was no way of proving it.

"We would call Flora Carrow to the stand." _We've established that her views are irrelevant. She's the only one who can tell her version of the story._ The defendant responded by simply rising and taking the assistant teacher's place. _But I can't do it myself._ Seated, she motioned for Ron to get up, and he responded with a moderately confused expression. _He probably thinks that I just really wanted to defend her._ "You'll be fine." she whispered. "You questioned her."

The Gryffindor rose and left the list of questions behind.

"You're a blood purist," he started. It was close enough to a question, but technically there was no requirement to respond. "Ever tell anyone?"

"The whole of the House of Slytherin is aware of it, I should think," the witness responded. "Beyond that, I would imagine anyone could guess, provided the wit."

"Right. So it's well understood, possibly even among the foreign students, that you don't like-"

"Mudbloods and blood traitors. The first are worse than the second in my belief."

"That's quite enough, it's not really important what you-"

"Objection, counsel is interrupting the witness," the French student argued from the prosecution.

"I'm only trying to say the... injured students had a reason to attack her."

"Perhaps the court would gain from a small example of what exactly the defendant believes," Megan argued. _She will do it on cross anyway._

"The defendant's beliefs are not on trial," Hermione contested. "The defense explains only that the injured students would know about them."

An uneasy silence followed and Ron seemed to shrug and take advantage of it, asking another question.

"What happened, then?"

Flora explained her side of the story with minimal unnecessary input. It was, after all, the third or fourth time she had been asked to recount the events as they happened. The Ravenclaw witch was hit with a wave of doubt. _What if she's been lying to us the whole time? I mean, it wouldn't make any sense-_

"You used an unblockable dark curse. Why?"

"Only advanced shields can so much as deflect it."

The Gryffindor seemed to be thinking for a moment.

"Suppose a group of Slytherin pure bloods attacked you. What would you use?"

It was an unexpected question.

"I suppose, in that event, I would have little choice but to use the same spell, unlikely a scenario though-"

"I object," the French student started. "Counsel might ask her if she would use it on her parents; she might say yes; what would it prove?"

"Well, what would you do?" Ron argued. "D'you reckon you could Apparate out of there?"

"I am not on trial," Snape's expression seemed to agree, though Hermione doubted her partner was looking in his direction.

"I'm only saying you don't need any ill will to use the da- the dark curse, she only used it because her life was-"

"I object. Dark magic requires emotion."

"Generally, yes," the Ravenclaw witch intervened. "If the prosecution were to enter into evidence an expert who could testify about the emotional investment of the specific dark curse being used, the defense would find it necessary to enter into evidence an expert who can explain that the more a dark spell is used, the less it requires of the caster." _Well, I've done it._

_I've proven to the world that I really have been studying dark magic._

Headmaster Karkaroff gave a slight nod.

"No demonstration is required. I consider myself a preeminent expert on dark magic, and you have demonstrated an intelligence quite rare at this school."

Hermione froze, unable to so much as think as the questioning went on. She forced herself to focus on something more productive than an odd sense of _déjà vu,_ and came up with the questions they had prepared for Capet, who was supposed to explain that the Beauxbatons students who had attacked Flora were not only friends, but members of what was basically a dark wizard hunting squad. Unfortunately, it would be his word against theirs, and she doubted she could realistically get enough French students to go against them on it, and even then it would not technically be proof. _Well, Ron's friends with him; I'll let him ask the questions._

Megan Jones moved to cross-examine.

"Miss Carrow, what are your views regarding anyone of a different blood quantum than yourself?"

"Objection, the views of the defendant continue not to be on-"

"I merely establish motive-"

"Objection overruled," Madame Maxine decided. "Ze defense was permitted to not ask ze defendant about 'er views, not to remove zem from ze trial."

Ron scowled at Flora during the cross, particularly annoyed at her descriptions of wizard-muggle relations. In the past few weeks, he had found some of his wards had healed, and asked her help in applying them again. _My past self really should have thought to write them all down, then erase them from our memories as well. It's doubtful that he, Hannah, Terry, or myself would have been stripped when we were questioned about Draco's disappearance, but layered wards designed to protect against combat magic would have looked suspicious._ Her thoughts turning to Terry, she remembered that if Ron and Hannah had been resentful about defending the Slytherin, he had entirely refused until she told him that she had already said she would do it, and she needed his help. Basically, he had been against uniting the group in public, and being the defense team would make the four of them a named group in the public eye.

With the cross completed, the red-haired wizard scrawled something about asking another question of one of the prosecution witnesses. _He'll have the opportunity when we're done with ours. Before deliberation, both sides will be allowed to question any witness on redirect._

Their next witnesses, Capet and Draco, were both character witnesses, the first for the injured French students and the second for the defendant. Hermione elected to interview them both herself. _It would be too obvious that Ron likes one and hates the other. He's not that subtle._ Their testimonies went as expected, with Capet able to provide details about the factions at Beauxbatons, which were more complex than she had expected, and the Slytherin explaining that Flora was of distinguished character, unlikely to kill anyone over a grudge, or attempt it.

"She and I are personal enemies, as it happens," the Malfoy heir elaborated. "Yet, at no point, has she challenged me to a duel or sought to exact revenge in any other way."

"Interesting," the Ravenclaw commented neutrally. "What exactly have you done?"

"Nothing you need to know, mudblood," Draco sneered. "We Slytherins are discreet in our affairs, and to say the least we would never do anything so foolish as to attack six wands out of nowhere. Flora is of a temperate disposition, and would not under any circumstances respond violently to mere talk; to do so she would become a disgrace to our House and her own. _In a general case_ , the mob is more likely to attack the individual than the reverse."

"Nothing further," Hermione decided, her lips pursed. _At least no one will think we chose our witnesses based on how much they like us._

The next witness was the Hufflepuff Malfoy proposed, and she was surprised to find Ernie getting on the stand. _He's definitely trying to get Flora out of trouble, since she will most likely be convicted in the Wizengamot if we lose. I don't get this choice, though._ She motioned for Ron to question him before seeing the barely-concealed bruises. He had a glazed look on his face.

_It's too late. I can't stop it now. Wait._

"If we may, I would like to confer with our client," she proposed.

"Court will not adjourn for another hour," Megan interpolated. "The questions will proceed." _She wants to ask him about the bruises on cross._

Ron shrugged, as if to say 'sorry, nothing I can do'.

"Were you one of the people involved with the attack?" he asked.

"No."

"Did you see it happen?"

"Yes," Ernie answered, his fingers tapping for some reason. _I can't turn to look at Draco- everyone will know he had something to do with it._

"Please describe what you saw," Ron asked, his brow furrowing. _He's confused. He doesn't know how Draco got a personal enemy of his to testify for Flora._

"I was only a few feet away when it happened."

"I didn't see you."

"I didn't see you either. You must have arrived after I left."

"You didn't intervene?"

"I did not."

"Seems odd."

"Are you trying to discredit your own witness?" Megan asked from the prosecution. "If you would like, I would be more than happy-"

"I order a recess," Snape interrupted. "Weasley, confer with your witness if you have the wit to string more than two words together. This juvenile process of objections and legal errors is tiring and it is close enough to noon. You are all dismissed."

The tables shifted back into place, but she and Ron would be going to Hogsmeade, since it was the weekend and it would be faster to go there than wait for the room to be rearranged for lunch.

"Did you see?" she whispered, following his angry, fast pace.

"I saw enough. He's lying; it'd be just like Malfoy to try to sabotage us just to get rid of someone, then make it look like he's helping by testifying himself. It's the knife you don't feel even after you're dead."

"Well, I don't know why he's lying-" _It's almost certainly dark magic._ "-but he has to be," she whispered back as the pair of them made their way past the crowd of students, grabbing Ernie from the witness stand. _Hannah and Terry will find us outside._ Somewhere behind them, Flora was being escorted away, likely where they found her.

"Enough bollocks out of you, Macmillan," Ron started as soon as they were out of the castle's side exit. Hermione expected other students would have the same idea, but they would be going a slightly different route. "What did you see?"

"I saw what Flora saw-"

"No, you didn't," he insisted. "Did Malfoy get to you?"

"I don't know that name."

Hermione's eyes widened. _It's a cry for help._

"Ron, he's been beaten and cursed. I don't know what exactly they did to him, but he knows he's lying, he just can't do anything about it."

"Well, how do we get him out of it?"

"I don't know that we can," she said, her voice shaking as she waved her wand over the Hufflepuff wizard. It was frightening, knowing there was something seriously wrong, but not knowing what it was. _I should have known he would get back at us for getting him expelled- and this is probably because I erased his memory. He doesn't know how we did it, but any other enemy of his would have killed him. So he shows us a taste of what could happen to us._

"Well, get a hold of yourself. What is it, exactly?"

"I don't know, it's nothing I can do, so it might be dark magic. I feel like it's something I've seen before, but I don't remember." _It's a coded message, but he should work it out._

Their friends found them. The Gryffindor explained the situation as she kept trying to figure out what was wrong. _We can't just take him out of the trial unless he recants his affidavit, which would basically put him in jail for perjury, which Draco already forced him to commit. He'll have to be tried, though- we can defend him if we figure out how he did it-_

"I can do it," Hannah volunteered. "I've been around him the most; I know how he talks."

"What?" the bushy haired witch asked.

"We're going to use Polyjuice to turn me into Ernie. I can say I was never there in the first place, and even if they use Veritaserum-"

"Hannah, you can't!" Hermione objected. "That's fraud- what we need to do is tell Professor Snape that Draco gave us a witness he's bewitched into thinking he was there."

"That won't work. He prob'ly already knows," Ron decided. "I mean, think about every time he's turned a blind eye-"

"He doesn't care if Draco _talks in class-_ not that he's done that in years. This is different. He's supposed to be a judge, and if we tell all three of the judges-"

"Then he'll tell them we're lying 'cause he can't risk the others thinking he's in on it," he argued back. "Hermione, when we tell people things, it's _out of our hands_. Two out of the three judges are dark wizards, and then the other one's already got a reason to be against us."

"Ron, the whole reason we're doing this is because we have to prove the process works," she pleaded.

"Well, it can't unless we filter out this kind of thing from the beginning," Terry decided, intervening. "Every witness should be put through the kind of enchantments the gates of Azkaban have, then they can testify under Veritaserum. Magic can be used to monitor trials as easily as it can be used to cheat in them." He sighed before continuing. "From everything I've read in criminal law, it's standard to subject the defendant to Veritaserum or in some cases a magical contract, but there were cases where that was rejected because the defendant was a child."

Everyone was silent for a moment, including Ernie.

"We'll put it to a vote," Hannah said.

"You're only saying that because you're in the lead- you know Ron's already against me- you're all against me!" _This is how it happens. This is how courts and laws and justice collapse. A few bad people can't do it on their own; it takes good people taking shortcuts and undermining their own arguments._

"Hermoine, we're not against you," the other Ravenclaw said, though she was turned away. "We're trying to help you and we're trying to help Flora-"

"We're not supposed to be helping her, we're helping the process-"

"Well, as her counsel, we're supposed to be helping her," Terry explained. _I know that._

"We can't help the process by cheating," she said firmly.

"Hermione, the system requires some sense of reciprocity in order to function," the dark-haired wizard continued. "Like, it's all well and good if everyone behaves, and it's not time to throw it out when one person goes against it, but we're stuck in a choice between proving to people that the system works by cheating, or working within the rules and convincing everyone that it does not." He sighed. "To the average person, the system working means that trials take no more than a week, and everyone the _Prophet_ deems guilty is ruled so."

"Isn't there anything we can do about Ernie?" she asked. "He seems to be aware that what he was saying was false- is there a way Professor Snape could use Legilimency-"

"Professor Snape would be quite interested in using Legilimency."

The four of them turned, seeing him standing there, alone. _Where are the others? Why did he follow us? Did he follow us?_

"Please, sir, Draco told us that a witness he provided would be willing to-"

"Silence, Granger, I have heard quite enough of your voice today. I expect the conclusion of this trial will go quite well for Miss Carrow, quite poorly for Mister Malfoy, as well as everyone else, including the four of you."

"Well, we're going to win, aren't we?" Ron asked, annoyed.

"It will not please you to learn this, Weasley, but your mortal enemy is something of an amateur Legilimens. I expect he took the opportunity at the trial to extract secrets from Granger's head, learning something that made him silently rage, his lips refusing to curl for anyone but me. I tire of watching you flounder through a litany of objections, and I tire of my former student ruining my designs." The Headmaster turned away, having other business, as he claimed. "Your continued education at Hogwarts will depend on making him suffer for it."

They stood there in silence again. Hermione silently decided they might as well go inside for lunch, for all the good it would do them.


	31. Set Me Free

Hannah was relatively sure of how Snape found them talking, but it no longer mattered. No great act of brilliance by the group would be what saved Flora from wrongful expulsion and probable imprisonment, but the fact that one of the judges was in their corner due to a deeper grudge against another student than the one he had against most of them, and the fact that another one of the judges would likely vote along with him. _There's really no telling with Karkaroff. He basically doesn't talk, and we've never met him before this._

Everyone took their places as Professor McGonagall explained that Ernie had retracted his testimony with the permission of the judges, to the audible chagrin of the students in attendance. _Really, we should be counting our blessings that Flora's never given Snape any reason to hate her._ The prosecution was angry for being denied the ability to cross, but from what they had read of his affidavit, his testimony had a small chance of costing them the trial entirely. All that was left were the final redirects and the closing statements.

As Ron had one of the Hufflepuffs on the stand, whose injuries had mostly been healed, she could hear whispers from everyone else in the audience, and she dared not look at Draco. _If he's a Legilimens... it's only so long before he realizes I'm a werewolf._ Hermione had made a last minute trip to the library for a book on Occulmency in lieu of eating, but it was difficult and time consuming to learn. It was not something that could be mastered in an afternoon.

"So let's say you were attacked by six Slytherins," he started, gesturing with his wand toward Malfoy and his henchmen, causing some people in the audience to duck. "You don't know how to Apparate and you can't use advanced shielding, so what do you do?."

"I object, what is ze relevancy of zis question?"

"Earlier you said that it wouldn't matter if Flora said she'd use the curse on her parents if they attacked her. I couldn't ask you as you're not on trial, so I'm asking one of your witnesses." Hannah supposed there was no particular need to remind him that he was supposed to be directing his answers to objections to the presiding. "It's the only question I have for the witness."

"Answer the question," Snape ordered from the bench.

Leanne looked out at the audience for a moment before complying.

"I would respond with only the force necessary to protect myself from the immediate threat," she said, perhaps anticipating the question. "It would be important to remember the context, of course. Those people are all blood purists."

The audience was alive, some whispering, some shouting, some silent. Madame Maxine shouted audibly over the din, but only a few obeyed, the rest were silenced by the other Headmasters and teachers. _It's a little unfair, treating us like that. I imagine it was Snape's idea._

When at last order had been restored, Ron decided his redirect was concluded and the prosecution moved to ask Flora more questions on redirect to give the presiding an idea of her personal character, but all three judges concurred that it had no bearing on whether or not she committed any crime, though whether that was out of a desire to see the matter resolved, Hannah could not say. Her eyes wore the same tired expression as Karkaroff across on the bench and for a moment she wondered if he feared for the future, but his boredom seemed more deterministic. Sooner or later he would be out, but for the time being he was confined to the bench. For the life of her she could not say what would happen after the trial, but whatever Hermione and Terry hoped, she doubted it would make a difference. If two of their own people had been on the bench and ruled Flora not guilty, they would be secret blood purists from then on; the fact that they had a pair of dark wizards, at the very least, in their corner helped them none at all.

_They've got responses prepared for whatever happens. If they win, they'll decide that Flora was someone the rest of the Death Eaters wanted put away or dead._

Closing arguments began with the prosecution.

"Reputable Headmasters and Headmistress, the case that we have presented clearly establishes the validity of punishment for the defendant. Not one of you have made any remarks that support blood purism to our knowledge, and the prosecution is prepared to presume the three of you have no inclination toward it." _There isn't a chance in Hell._ "Sentencing the defendant, the daughter of a known Death Eater, to an appropriate punishment for attempted murder would be sufficient to deflect any present suspicion of dark influence in the three schools represented by the bench." Karkaroff could not have had a less amused expression. "There are those among us who doubt that the law and the courts can be vehicles for justice when untold numbers of dark wizards were spared imprisonment after the apparent death of their leader, but it seemed only fair to give them another chance. That will be all," Megan said as she resumed her seat. _Everyone caught the double meaning._ There was, however, nothing resembling a response. _Terry said something about how you can basically say whatever you want in a closing statement, even if it's not relevant to the guilt of the defendant._

"Honored Headmasters and Headmistress, the probability that Flora Carrow committed attempted murder is somewhere below a part in ten," Hermione started, remembering to use 'wizarding' terms for probability. _In fairness, it's easy enough to pick up and most of them mean about the same thing as a familiar term._ "The defense has obviated that the views of our client have nothing to do with the facts of the case, but more importantly that a court is not a means to political ends, but a servant of justice and law." she finished. Hannah remembered something about how she wanted to keep the statement short, the better to appease the judges most likely to vote in their favor.

The judges dismissed the students, with the teachers announcing that they would deliberate before at last removing the silencing charms.

"Professor Snape only told us how he would vote," Terry reminded her at a whisper as they moved through a crowd of bodies, feeling someone step on her foot unapologetically. She felt a little better about everything with him there. _He has his faults, but he's a good friend. He cares about us._

Remembering that they were supposed to meet in the mysterious room if they were separated, her legs took her there, her Ravenclaw companion seeking no particular conversation, as always. It was only when they got to the door and they were scouring the area for anyone who might have followed them that he opened his mouth.

"Do you think Hermione likes me?" he asked. The Hufflepuff witch stopped dead in her search.

"I'm sorry, I haven't asked," she said, careful not to explicitly lie. _Well, I don't know, do I?_

"Oh. That's fine. I mean it's totally fine, I'm not just saying that. I only thought that if she told someone, she would tell you."

"I mean, she might tell me that, I don't know." _Don't offer to ask. Don't offer to ask. Don't offer to ask._

They went in without further ceremony. The other two would probably have to check on their own, but that made sense, as someone might have been following them. _Even with this incredible magic on our side, we can't just disappear when the school's full of people who hate us. It's only going to get worse if they decide Flora was innocent._

A week ago, Susan asked her why the four of them couldn't just pick a side, likely after weeks of holding that question in. Hannah knew the girl meant well, and she imagined that it was like watching her friend standing in the middle of a meat packing plant where they sawed the carcasses in half, but refusing to jump to one side or the other. She also knew that Susan probably wanted her to side with their House, and by extension the faction and the Department.

"Susan the majority of normal people out there don't really want to pick a side, but they're afraid of saying anything about it," she had said. "I've told you about all the terrible stuff the Ministry's been doing, you're only picking them because it'd be worse if the Death Eaters won. How do we know which would be worse? Did dark wizards ever win before? Did we ever have the kind of absurd police state people like Electrum are promising? How do we know their promises line up with the future?"

It had been a difficult conversation to have, but she did not anticipate having any more like it.

_We've sealed our fate._

"You know, now that we've helped Ernie by telling Snape that Malfoy cursed him, the Slytherins are going to be out for our blood and much as the Hufflepuffs."

"They'll probably never find out about that," Terry scoffed. "Malfoy's already making plans to put us all in the ground. We should have known Longbottom would let him out."

Hannah rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what happened or why he did it. I imagine he just forgot that Hermione told him to keep the box closed." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, I'm glad Ron put his foot down about letting him in the group... about as much as I'm gutted that I was in favor of it."

"It's an easy mistake to make," the dark-haired wizard said after giving a nod that said basically the same thing. "When we were all idiots, he didn't stand out much. And it's not really that he's an absolute buffoon who can't think, it's just harder for him to learn, even when his memory problems seem to be mostly short-term. If he misses an assignment, he has to work harder in that class to make the same note. Working harder in any given class puts him on the back foot with the others, and it drains his time that we usually use to study other resources or practice. Over the course of three years, an active, invested student will get ahead of a student who is only getting by, so it actually kind of makes sense that he's throwing everything into his favorite class. He won't be more impressive than other students who dedicated more time in Herbology than anything else, but he will be able to do a few different jobs after Hogwarts, unless he decides to go on studying."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," the blonde witch commented as their friends entered.

"It's kind of like card games. There are mathematically verified, by-the-book strategies. The thing is, if you play them, you only lose slowly." Ron seemed to take a particular interest. "You lose about sixty percent of the money you wager per hand, on average. If, however, you gamble, you actually have a chance to win some, not that it's a significant chance." He looked over at the other two. "Well, you've got your wish. Consider us side number three, sacrificial, all-around good guys that the bigger, scarier people hate more than each other."

"Not saying we can't do research, Terry," Ron argued, exhaling more with fatigue than annoyance. "Can't hurt to have an extra set of eyes or two. Only way we're going to get that is by changing the game."

"You seem to have too much faith in the strength of the human spirit," the Ravenclaw wizard decided. "Respectfully, I cannot say I share it. The Death Eaters, their children, and the conspirators may be incorrect in characterizing many people as fearful fence-sitters, refusing to take one of the bigger sides for fear of the other, but the average person is not going to take our side, even when it presents itself as a morally upright alternative to the others, because the fear of the other two sides is perfectly reasonable. There are not a great amount of people as mad as we are." _You mean as mad as he is, don't you?_

"Well, I'll take a bloody few. When we get them, we can start picking up some less mad people," Ron said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not that stupid. I know we're outnumbered and I know they'd rather go after us than each other, but that's because we're the real threat. They need a war where you've got the choice between one, the other, and certain death. That's basically how it was until maybe two years ago, and that's how they picked up almost all of the students here. When we give people a third side, everything falls apart for them."

"When the third side is blown to pieces in eight seconds, the third side ceases to exist. It cannot inspire people, it cannot fight the other sides; it is no more," Terry argued. "Had we lasted long enough to accomplish something, people might have joined after that, but that thestral has flown. All that remains is to decide our next move. We may not have many left."

"Bloody Hell, Terry if we'd gone anonymous and battened down the hatches, no one'd ever be able to join us. Why would they, anyway? If the Ministry blew up one day, they'd be more likely to join the Death Eaters than anyone else, and if Voldemort dropped dead and we weren't around to claim credit for it, they'd think it was the Department." The other wizard looked like he was about to respond. "Look, if this ever comes to an open battle, and whichever side thinks it's bigger'll want that; numbers win every time. If the four of us are locked up in the library reading books, the other sides'll have like twenty times that doing the same thing. Like, you and Hermione are smart, but there're going to be a ton of smart people working for our enemies."

"Now that we have that out of the way-" the Ravenclaw witch interjected, looking back and forth. "- what are we going to do about Draco and the others?"

The other Ravenclaw looked somewhat annoyed, perhaps having had something else to say. _He might not like the idea that smart people take different sides. It kind of separates being smart from being right, but that's how it is. I would be an idiot not to acknowledge that Voldemort's a genius, coming back to life and all, and it's the same thing with the Department. We can't even say Anthony was not simply doing the smart thing._

The others seemed to be thinking about the next moves of the group, but her train of thought had yet to reach the station. _Ravenclaws are people who value being smart. I know I've looked at working and making do and surviving as perfectly necessary my whole life, and I'd probably be upset if someone said otherwise._ She sighed. _Not that that's the only explanation._

"Hey, where's Mafalda?" she asked, remembering her debt to the poor girl. Hermione spun around, the wizards quiet immediately.

"Mafalda?" she called, craning her neck to the stairs.

"I reckon it's too soon to be asleep," Ron wagered. "Can't hear any water running."

Hannah's fears came calling from the back of her mind. _She knows about this place. She knows about me. She knows everything._

"We have to find her- Why didn't we just use the memory charm to make her forget about-"

"Hannah, please, slow-"

"Malfoy might already have her," she choked. "Once he finds out every secret we have, there's no telling-"

"There's no telling what might happen to me?"

Everyone turned around to find the Slytherin witch by the door.

"Don't you usually-"

"I had some reading to do. I'm glad your secrets didn't get out," she answered, sniffling a bit as she walked past them. The Hufflepuff was without ideas.

"Wait," someone said. Hannah did not think the words came from her lips.

"I'm going upstairs," Mafalda obviated, her voice shaking slightly. _She wants to be alone._

Nothing was said for a moment as Terry and Hermione glanced at each other before bowing out. _That's right. With Mafalda here, we can't really put up all of us, unless Terry and Ron want to get really close all of a sudden._ She thought about different ways it could be arranged.

_Well..._

She shook her head as she looked over at Ron, who looked like he was feeling about as guilty as she was. _At least the fact that the other two left means they don't know. Well, if they know anything, at least they don't think we're that far on._

In truth, the pair of them had spoken plenty since the first time Mafalda caught them, but rarely about each other. _Neither of us want to talk about it. I suppose you know you've got problems when you'd rather discuss a damn war._

"Kinda reminds me of the last time," the red-haired wizard muttered.

"I was thinking about the same thing," she said. _Well, that's obvious. Of course I would be thinking about it- and the only reason he would pretend not to know is if he were a Legilimens, and the trial would have been a bit easier-_

"Are you alright with everything?" he asked, somewhat unexpectedly.

"I- I mean, I can't ask for much better, we're teenagers and things are going to be weird-" The Gryffindor seemed to hang his head a bit. "-because we're still figuring things out. I mean, I know I like you, and I can't sort anything else out, but I feel like... I feel like that's enough for now."

"Yeah, that sounds good to me," he decided, looking like he would fall asleep soon. She smiled slightly, almost entirely to herself.


	32. From a Castle to a Palace

Draco had thus far not noticed any significant difference involved with being a student of Durmstrang Institute. He had been given a nominal rank, of course, but Evan had easily risen above his own. The school lacked the traditional structure of passing a year with the proper notes and moving on to the next year, so his having spent the better part of four years at Hogwarts did him no favors; the experience was considered nontransferable. _No matter; I shall rise quickly enough. Before long, I shall contend with those of the highest ranks._

His concern was revenge. The defense team of Flora Carrow had indirectly helped him with a favor he owed her family, but out of a principle more naive than what the buffoons in Hufflepuff believed, or what the cleverer ones deliberately promoted. They were not blood purists, they were traitors to the wizarding world of the worst kind; they had kidnapped him and many of his vassals for the purpose of expelling them from Hogwarts, and succeeded. _They gave no thought to whether it would effectively deter us or not, they refused to kill us, and in their insufferable naivety their plan worked, for all the good it will do them. I shall discover their secrets and make an example of them for anyone foolish enough to think them heroic._

Imprisonment had cost him any hold on the rumor mill that he might have had, and his vassals who remained loyal to him thought less of him for their collective failure. _There are too many minds at the school, especially with the Tournament. I cannot simply sift through until I gain the information I need, whether in a crowded area or a secluded one. Longbottom is a waste. He learns much and remembers little, and his gullible nature calls the truth of his thoughts into question. If the mudblood or the blood traitors told him anything, they convinced him of a falsehood or he forgot._

The only real option remaining him was a regular investigation, meaning he would have to be close enough to one of them or someone who knew something to use Legilimency. Having had the idea to do something about them before, he had asked Longbottom if he ever saw their Hufflepuff in the Basement, and the same of Padma about the mudblood. There was no point in looking up a dark lion, as both of his previous searches came back with the same result. _If they are away from the dormitories, they have found somewhere else to sleep. In the worst case, it would be a shrunken chest much like the one they used to imprison us._ Draco was still uncertain as to how none of them had suffocated.

It had been Professor McGonagall who would announce the verdict, since the judges had work that had accumulated during the proceedings of the weekend. Her explanation had been simple and expected, as it had been rather plainly evident that Flora had committed no crime, when one simply perused the evidence. According to a Prefect close to Snape, the deliberations had also gone as expected. Madame Maxine had thought the measures the defendant took were disproportionate, more violent than the situation demanded, and if the injured students had any murderous intent, she would have had to attack first to have been completely uninjured. Wizards more concerned with the law might have explained that attacking first does not entirely invalidate the self-defense exception, as it might have been that she would have had to attack first to have survived, and the prosecution could not prove otherwise. As it happened, Snape and Karkaroff simply outvoted her.

"Snape thinks Karkaroff really only cares the defense demonstrated some knowledge of dark magic," the Prefect had explained. "Apart from that, they were the same, they just wanted the trial to be over, and the verdict they were going to choose was obvious from the beginning."

Professor McGonagall, however, speculated before the school that the prosecution might have presented a more effective case had they focused on relevant facts. _I suppose she has to be speculating, then, if she's not lying outright. She would be if she knew how the deliberations went._ He supposed that in truth, such a thing might be relevant in a regular court, but then in a regular court he would expect to find the same underlying political motivations. _At least the trial was without the sudden objections or bizarre coincidences common in legal fiction._

He remembered to thank the Prefect for his information, and stated that he trusted it was accurate. _No need to tell him I have a way of knowing for sure._

Thinking more on the trial as he worked his way through his first few classes under new teachers, he decided it would be perfectly possible to have the witnesses for the prosecution charged with perjury or at least expelled over it, since they had said she heard them talking and attacked, where her version of events held that they surrounded her and she attacked. _If she ends up paying a fine for the use of dark magic- I believe Snape gets away with it under 'educational purposes', the least the school could do would be to punish all the minor crimes._

He scowled at his own failure to have Weasley or the mudblood charged with fraud, or possibly tampering with evidence, but at the very least Macmillan was out of action for a while as the teachers determined he was under an Unbreakable Vow, as opposed to a magical contract or an Imperius Curse. Either of the other options would have been useful in their own rights, but Nott and Davis had expressed an interest in the first and he let them have at it. _They seem to think the Vow will serve to bind all future vassals to my will, or at least non-mutiny. While well-meant, this will make it impossible for me to recruit true Slytherins._

The plan had been a win either way, as long as Macmillan went to the stand, because his testimony would have either been accepted or the defense team would have suffered from the glaring contradictions in it. Essentially, the vassals had together thought of hundreds of questions he could potentially have been asked, and made him vow his answers to each of them, but there were still a nearly infinite amount of ways he could have been found to be lying, especially if Flora had said she had not seen him, though that was doubtful. _A witch as clever as she would have said he might have been there, or he might not have. That she did not notice his presence does not mean he was not there._

At the end of the day he gathered the extent of his help at Durmstrang, Davis, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Derrick, Bole, and Bulstrode. _All I have left in the castle is Parkinson, as well as some of Bole's minions. She may be able to reattach them to another Quidditch player, but we have not many left after those who sided with Umbridge were expelled. With the Tournament, there was no need to recruit new players from among the second-years, but some of the minions might have been trying to get in his good graces._ He had elevated Crabbe and Goyle to a new status, but deliberately withheld vassal status for their contributory failure resulting in their collective capture.

The night was dark outside, but a magical lamp rested on a crate between them, its light dim and pleasing to the eye.

"Do we know what happened yet?" Derrick asked.

"There can be no explanation that does not involve the legal defense team of Flora Carrow," the Malfoy heir responded. "They told Longbottom where we were- they're the only other people who talk to him."

"They did not intend to kill us, then," Goyle decided, though it was obvious enough.

"No, out of the same hopeless ideals for which they would defend Flora. I do not believe they concerned themselves with pure blood disappearing, only dirtying their wands. They are not as many as the conspirators, but they have proven themselves capable and willing to act against both parties, rather than sit the fence as we have claimed. They may have intended to have us removed from the grounds, but they underestimated my ability to avoid trouble with our esteemed Headmaster." _If any of them knew Legilimency I would be a dead wizard._ "Most importantly, they have wronged us. For this reason, they are our primary target." _I shall exclude that many of the objectives the Hufflepuffs and the faction in the Ministry work in the favor of the Death Eaters, that they believe they will use us as pawns to gain greater control, but the Dark Lord will prove them wrong._

"We could erase them from existence," Nott ventured. "They are only four, and alone it would be all the easier. Hogwarts would be forced to close, and our enemies would scatter in fear and disorder. If we choose a strategic hour, we would be away before anyone realized it had been we."

"It seems like the thing to do," Bulstrode decided. "We have been wronged."

"It seems appropriate," Draco decided. "Their foolish mercy is not to be rewarded, nor would it count in the proper calculations. The death of a single pure blood is equivalent to the death of two half bloods, though they vary in quantum despite the name. Perhaps it would be a shame to end the Abbott line, but without a male heir, it ended in effect with the father's death- and I doubt the Weasley family will be extinguished any time soon."

A genuine laugh came from those who would not soon receive a disappointed glare.

"We could use the Vow again, if we wish to distance ourselves," Davis offered. "Longbottom may not have outlived his use yet."

"Longbottom would know he is helping us if he tells Parkinson what he knows and he lacks the skill to kill anyone," Crabbe argued. "We would be better served by using a personal enemy and more likely to get away with it. It would be pretty hard to get a few Hufflepuffs, but the school might believe it was real."

_I might have pointed it out myself, but some amount of practice thinking could hardly be harmful for my henchmen. I had expected him to mention that our rotund contact has proven remotely loyal, or at least not traitorous, or even his ineligibility as a sacrifice due to his blood status. It is imperative to the future of the magical world that he takes a wife and produces heirs, the more the better._

"Should we use the witnesses for the prosecution, then?" Derrick asked.

"Their punishment will come when they are convicted of perjury," Davis decided, possibly out of a desire to redeem herself. _I suppose no one likes being corrected by Crabbe. All the same, I shall hear her out._ "The prosecution themselves, however, have committed no crime, except to accuse a Slytherin of a crime she did not commit. I contend that any amount of Beauxbatons students and Hufflepuffs would be sufficient, though we would do well to include the prosecutors in their numbers." _I expect it will be chosen by convenience in any case. We have but two among us who can perform an Unbreakable Vow, and only a few others. Conservatively, it would take two to capture one, and that assumes that we can find them on their own._

"It will have to be a crime of opportunity," he decided, making all eyes turn. "If we have any intent to employ our unwilling servants at the same time, we shall have to store them, and the method that our captors used will prove perfectly sufficient. _That Nott managed to pick up the charm in a timely manner continues to prove itself worth the while. It almost makes me glad I was there to see Goldstein throwing books into a bottomless chest._

His thoughts turned to the dark red curse mark that he continued to bear, but they turned away.

"Who will be assigned to catching them?" Bole asked. _He thinks of his minions._

"Everyone not necessary to ensure Evan's victory in the Third Task." He had won by a considerable margin in the first, but in the second he had not even finished, meaning the result would be determined by the final event. As opposed to the previous strategy of telling no one anything, the teachers seemed to change their idea of what the Task would be with the passing hour. That the Heir of Slytherin was not present with them spoke audibly about his displeasure with Draco and his failure that had resulted in their capture. Karkaroff, according to Evan, had been deeply concerned about his disappearance, but redirected his annoyance to Snape after it was discovered that they were not, as it happened, off muggle-baiting and might very well have died of starvation. _Fitting, he used to be a Death Eater, and if it is as I believe, and the Dark Lord has taken his place, Evan is almost certainly aware and yet I have not heard it from his lips. It would seem to me that our friend has invented the reaction of his Headmaster under the assumption I do not know his true identity._

As his vassals worked out who would aid their Champion among themselves, with Crabbe and Goyle automatically sorted into the other contingent, the Malfoy heir frowned internally. For the Heir to lie to him, or withhold critical information, whether under orders or otherwise, his loyalties would have to lie with the Voldemort himself. _I should have expected as much. What can I offer Evan that the Dark Lord does not have himself? Perhaps I helped him in a time of need, but the same can be said of the man who showed him to the train, or near enough. In any event, he will likely have no further need of my aid, and as such will be unwilling to be a vassal._ The very idea sounded presumptuous already.

He excused himself, telling the others he would see if the Headmaster knew anything about the next task, and if he would be willing to tell them. _The others cannot know that the man they believe to be Karkaroff is someone else entirely. Their ability to respond to such a thing is untested at best, and in the worst case they would use the information against me._

Draco was nervous as he approached the captain's quarters, noting a pair of guards blocking his way. He almost wished it would serve as an excuse to turn back, and he realized he was apprehensive, having never not seen the Dark Lord in person since he possessed Quirinus Quirrell. A quick check with Legilimency determined the password, which he muttered before they questioned how he knew it.

"Thirty one October, nineteen eighty one."

As the guards moved, he decided he would not attempt the mind arts with whomever he found inside, as it would likely be all he could do to maintain his mental shields.

"Good day, sir," he started without preamble.

"How do you know the password?" the Headmaster asked without looking up.

"What else would it be, my lord?" As he spoke he felt his finger bone rotating on its joint, struggling not to scream. "I used... the mind arts-"

"There are other ways of extracting information, Malfoy. They are a touch more barbaric, but I had hoped your aunt Bellatrix would have some influence, unconfined as she is." The younger wizard did not react. His aunt had hardly been the only escapee from the ruin of Azkaban, and was not the only subject of his thoughts, nor did she seem especially interested in finding him. _I can only guess at where she is, though I would suspect her to return to the Dark Lord as quickly as possible- Amycus would tell her of his location, if my suspicion is correct and he knows._

"I have not seen her, nor has she contacted me," he explained truthfully, waving his wand over his hand and wincing. _Bulstrode knows a few healing spells; no idea why she decided to go into that._ "Have we any idea what the Third Task-"

"I care nothing for the Triwizard Tournament. Old heroes will be forgotten when I and my chosen few bring about the new age." The dark wizard cast a single eye in his direction. "The gold is even less relevant to me than it is to you and yours, Malfoy. Did you know I was of low birth? Your father was born with all the fortunes in the world, no one truly noteworthy in his lineage, but a sufficient pedigree to impress old Nott if memory serves. You have goblins count your galleons and manage your investments, only because we yet stand on the precipice of the great flood of gold that I may unleash at a whim. With ease could I make a ruin of the great banks and financiers as I flooded the streets with their all-precious metal, or perhaps I should simply buy every business in Britain before anyone notices? There are even goblins who would take care of it all for me."

The Dark Lord wore a wistful expression for a moment.

"Well-"

"And yet, it does not interest me." Draco choked, and he might have spat an 'I beg your pardon', but the Lord Voldemort simply continued. "Have you any idea what I am, Malfoy? Do you know my chosen path?" The older wizard rose as he spoke. "Selwyn seemed to think of me as a general, and he as much gave me the rank, though military matters are not my calling; I desire bloodshed as little as I fear it. Your lord father saw me as a king, or he said he did. Only a pitiful fool ever accurately guessed my chosen path, perhaps because it was similar to his own, twisted and gnarled though it turned for him. Perhaps, for this reason, you have a chance."

"You are an academic, my lord."

Night on the ship was dark and the way was long with no guide to take him back, and yet such was the chosen path of Draco Malfoy, he reminded himself as he spat a measure of blood from biting his tongue. Where he was going, no wizard had gone, and there would be no one to warn him if he strayed into the infinite depths and darkness.


	33. Interlude: The North

Wahde's eyes were clear, yet the sight confused her.

She and Charlie had arrived in Casablanca, the greatest city in the Berber world, the previous week, having had to apparate to the border of the Maghreb lest they fall victim to the dark wards. In the past few days they had been unable to locate either of their needles in the great haystack, but she learned even more about the region than she could reasonably pretend to know.

"Do not let your eyes deceive you," she had said on their arrival at the border, a ward that could only be felt as they passed through. "The North has many names, as many places do, yet here the names change because the names have power." They were standing alone in the arid wilderness, and to him she suspected there was nothing at all suspicious about the place. She remembered waving her wand with a spirit detection spell, but finding nothing. _I had hoped for a helpful illustration of the point. This is unfortunate._

"They keep calling it different things to keep you from knowing what they mean?" the red-haired wizard guessed. "I guess that's pretty smart. You can't talk about something if you don't know the name. Really, it's hard to think about it. D'you reckon they have any reason for it?"

"The whispers from the Maghreb tell of different things," she had said. "Perhaps it is something greatly complex, and the dark wizards have evil plans, thousands of years in the works. Perhaps it is much simpler; perhaps they are simply ashamed of their past. The Barbary slave trade is a reason not to call it Barbary any longer."

"Is that like the other one that went on south of here?"

"No. There the kings sold men from other tribes, but not from far away. The reign of the whip was long, and they ran out of slaves to sell. The Barbary pirates stopped their raiding when the Europeans destroyed what they believed to be all of the trade and the traders. They were wrong. This was after Secrecy, and the sale went on in secret."

"What happened?"

"The slaves rebelled long ago. Many won their freedom, others were released, and the rest were killed."

Charlie seemed to have no response. He had some idea that Anthony would be in Casablanca, if for no other reason than because the boy was a Londoner and might feel at home in a large city after having been away for long enough. At the same time, the ratio of the area of the city in relation to the area of the Berber world was roughly the same as the ratio of the city and the area in which they could expect to find their target. The city was an obvious choice, but it was only a haystack within a haystack.

Presently, the pair of them were tailing a man who appeared to be a dark wizard in a crowded street. He was as out of place as Charlie, who himself earned more than enough stares, enough that he had considered disguising himself to keep the kid from realizing they were coming, but Wahde had waved away the notion. The city received more than enough international visitors; she doubted anyone would call home about a red-haired wizard, especially not in the magical district.

The dark-haired man of a pale complexion rounded a corner into an alley off the crowded street. The foreign wizard nodded to acknowledge he had seen the movement and followed, taking the same course, while she would go ahead. _If he hopes he can escape by turning again, he is mistaken._ Mounting the broomstick, she lifted off silently and looked over the buildings at a hover, tall and compact though they were. Their target had not taken off at a run yet, so she pulled ahead and landed in front of him, raising a shield in expectation he would realize his captivity. _I can dodge if he uses anything more serious._

To her surprise, the man leaped to the side, seeming to go for a squat basement window, the kind she had not seen at home. As Charlie caught up, he aimed a nonlethal spell at the target, she did not remember its description, but in defiance of what she had known to be possible, the fleeing man succeeded in contorting himself into a flexible, black form as he hit the window, breaking through it.

"Damn," Charlie muttered, perhaps both impressed and disappointed at the same time. "I wonder if he researched that trick just for this purpose."

"He is not a dark wizard."

"A dark wizard would have killed us both, or tried as much," the red-haired wizard continued. "If we were looking for dark wizards, we haven't found any. This was a false lead."

Wahde huffed briefly through her nose. She did not like the idea that she was no closer to finding her brother's killer, but really she knew she was no further away.

"What do you intend to do with Anthony when we find him?" Charlie asked.

"I was about to ask you," she lied.

"I heard Azkaban's a ruin, so he can't go there even if the laws worked out. I think he committed murder and kidnapping in Liberia, so if you've got a wizarding prison-"

"We do. He would most likely go to the Kalahari or Zerzura," she explained curtly, not desirous that he survive long enough to go to either place. Wizarding prisons were scarce the world over, as she understood it, and in many cases multiple countries shared a single one. Execution was more common, what with Secrecy to maintain. _Then, there is also the common instance of getting away with it. There is no point to building prisons for dark wizards who are not caught._ "Azkaban was the British one, then?"

"Yes, it was. Can't imagine what's going to happen now that it's gone. Ten years ago, most people didn't like the way they did things there, but we couldn't really live without it."

"You already said it was a prison."

"Well, it's more complicated than that. It's not just the inmates getting out and spreading out all over the place, it's the guards. We used nonbeings called dementors to keep the prisoners quiet, and ultimately suppress their ability to do magic. Now that they're out, they're feeding off muggles, well, nonmagical people, and it's hard to catch them doing it because the muggles can't see them. They can't die, we don't have any place to put them, and we end up just having to clean up their messes with memory charms and more than a few cheering charms."

"I have never seen a dementor," she said, peering into the basement window. As expected, their target had vanished. _It would not be so easy._

"That's good, I suppose. It may mean we're right about their preference for cold areas. Around here, they'd be limited to mountaintops... well, there's an idea."

"We do not want your problems here," Wadhe muttered, thinking more of the prisoners than the guards. It had long since occurred to her that some would see Africa as a perfect hiding place, apart from standing out in crowds somewhat. If the worst occurred and a fugitive were discovered, he could apparate away, even if surrounded by do-no-magics, because the Secrecy was less defined. His pursuers would be more reticent for their numbers, and for the fact that they had more to lose; she had explained as much to Charlie when they saw their most recent target. As for the guards, she was sure there was something simple the wizards across the sea had not tried yet.

"Most people don't. We have more established relations with the Americans and the Australians anyway, and I have some understanding of their mountain ranges, enough to conclude there might be enough in the right places that we could use."

The witch gave him a look.

"There are dragons there," he explained, looking up from a city map.

"Why do they not bother the do-no-magics? Secrecy would be gone in an afternoon?"

"Mostly they want nothing to do with them; 's always been that way. They're smarter creatures than most people realize; so when the muggles started spreading into their lands, they tried extortion first, must've figured it'd work out for them."

"What changed?" she asked, looking at the map. He appeared to have eliminated a few places, though a few of the markings could mean anything.

"Muggles fought them. They realized the extortion wasn't going to stop, so there was really nothing to do but send every knight they had until the dragon was dead." He set off down the alley, going toward another crowded street. "Eventually, they decided they were better off staying away. For a while it was fine, and they just kept out of sight in the mountains. Muggles didn't stop expanding, so they started needing people like myself to relocate them."

"Where?"

"Well, there are a few places that are still off the beaten path, like Romania. Can't just shove 'em in impossible spaces, it'd sever their contact with the natural world. I don't understand the theory about magical creatures and needing contact with nature, but it's been tested enough times to call it a proven fact; you don't know how many times we've tried to put a troll in a box and forget about him, we always get some kind of citation for that, but old Braintree always says that they don't count if he doesn't see them-"

"How do you keep them from being seen?" she asked, following the red-haired wizard toward what looked to be a pair of identical buildings, white and rectangular with blue windows. In truth, the structures themselves did not impress her, not as much as other things that seemed to be necessary for civilization.

"We've got muggle-repelling charms that keep them out sometimes. I really mean sometimes, every so often you get a contrarian or an impossible bellend who just won't listen to suggestions. I reckon that's how you keep your school hidden, but that's none of my business."

The pair of them walked through the ward boundary that cordoned off the wizarding part of the city through a series of increasingly forceful senses of fear. The dark wards kept most muggles from entering, and the ones who did knew better than to see things they were not supposed to see. The unease could still be felt by magical people as they passed through, but it was easy when they knew the danger was not real. The wards also prevented anyone from seeing in from a distance, but folded space might have been involved with that. Wadhe had never looked up the specifics. _We go through much effort to conceal ourselves from the do-no-magics. I wonder if they would hide from us, if they knew we lived among them._

The buildings were easy enough to access, possibly because the nonmagical watchmen assumed Charlie was there on business, though he had a way of acting like he was supposed to be there. The red-haired wizard took one look inside the first one they entered, then turned around.

"Not that one," he muttered.

"Why?!" she asked. "How do you know?!"

"There's a Death Eater in that one; I'm sure I've seen him before. Don't look too closely at them. Might be they're out of their element, but they never go anywhere without backup."

The African witch took him at his word. It seemed like they were looking for dark wizards earlier, but this seemed to mean there was a difference between them and Death Eaters.

"Do we think Anthony is here?"

"He might be. Got to thinking he'd be hiding in plain sight."

"Why?"

"Creating some kind of near-perfect hiding place didn't work. I don't think he'd try the same thing again, 'cause that's what we'd expect. It's your friend, Said who gives it away. He's looking for dark wizards, or someone powerful here, for protection. He'll exchange secrets or something, but the important thing is he has to meet with them somewhere."

"He means to meet them in this part of the city?" Wadhe asked as they passed through another set of security guards.

"The entire region is protected. You said as much yourself. The dark wizards may have made the protections for the magical district, but it's been there for ages and I reckon most of the people there have nothing to do with them."

"So they do business elsewhere." They boarded an elevator, in which the red-haired wizard looked confused for a moment before jamming the highest number.

"Yeah, in the part of the city you wouldn't expect to find wizards. It's the thing you mentioned earlier about fleeing criminals. In the muggle areas, they've got less to lose anyway."

"Charlie."

"Yeah?"

"You say there are Death Eaters one building over."

"I'm almost certain of it."

"Is that a coincidence?" she asked, adjusting to the feeling of the elevator. It was only her second time in a mechanical one. "Perhaps they too are here to do business with the dark wizards."

"Quite possible."

"What do they want?"

"No idea. You'd have to ask one of them."

The elevator dinged.

They emerged in a hallway, with signs of burnished brass mounted to the wall indicating what all was on the top floor.

"We're looking for anything out of place, any kind of subtle-"

Wadhe waved her wand at one of the brass signs, the words twisting into 'Dark Wizard Meeting Room' with an arrow pointing up.

"The dark wizards of the Maghreb are not subtle."

Charlie stared for a moment.

"I suppose not. Keeps the muggles out well enough, I reckon," he said as she waved her wand at the ceiling above the sign. A trap door opened, where it appeared there had not been one and a silver ladder of rope floated down. "Wait a tick, I've seen that one before."

"It is a clever trick," she explained as she checked for anyone watching. _The do-no-magics would not be looking for dark wards on the signs they made._ She had some idea they would also not notice a missing button on an elevator if the surrounding metal had been repaired, but there were other ways of concealing the real top floor, and there might well be no time to investigate any of them.

They scaled the ladder slowly and carefully, igniting their wands as they reached the top. The decoration of the room was intimidating, to say the least, as it had been set up for some kind of ritual magic, but the red-haired wizard sighed all the same.

"If he's been here we missed him. Wouldn't be any reason for it to be dark in here otherwise."

The witch said nothing. There were a few rituals that required total darkness, to her knowledge, but the place looked and sounded empty enough.

"How do we know he has been here?"

"We don't, but it's not a bad place to look for him or your friend," Charlie explained, proceeding to cast a charm with an incantation that sounded like it would reveal humans. Pointing her wand at the floor revealed a series of red concentric circles and triangles, with some manner of white zig-zags in between the progressively larger shapes. "What the devil is that?"

"I do not know." _The runes come from a Bantu tradition. Whoever did this is from the Congo or Uganda- or he has learned it in Uagadou._ Her eyes narrowed. "You might be right about Said having come here. The Maghreb has its own school- a school of dark magic. The boys of Barbary do not leave home without good reason."

The wizard appeared to piece together what she was saying.

"He went to a faraway school to diversify the background of whatever kind of dark wizard group meets here, then, and it's not a common thing, then. I take it you've not seen too many of his sort there?" She shook her head. "You can't quite say what this might do, though?" She shook her head again.

"Africa is a big place."

"It's the same back home, really," Charlie started, shaking his head. "People don't realize all the ancient magicks and esoteric spells that can be dredged up and combined in ways I can't begin to understand. I talk about it like I've an idea, but not really, the theory always kind of escaped me." He found what appeared to be a floating podium in the dark as he walked over to it. "Hate to admit it, but I sort of coasted in school. Better'n I had any right to be in Quidditch, doubled down on old Kettleburn's class and graduated before I knew it. Years from now they'll probably think of me and my friends as being in this lost generation, the only people to grow up and leave school without a war on."

Wadhe allowed him to vent as she struggled with the Arabic script on the lengths of papyrus they found on the podium. It was not as if she were entirely unsympathetic, but it was the kind of thing she imagined she would only understand when she had formative years on which to look back.

"It is a dark shield," she interpreted. "It may be able to block most forms of dark magic."

"What- is this ritual thing supposed to enchant something for that purpose? Are they creating a spell?"

She shook her head.

"I do not know." _We do not have classes in Arabic. I know it only from books._ "I sense, though, that we do not wish to find out."


	34. Defensive Measures

Terry had been right about attracting attention to themselves, but even if they had possessed the advantage at the time, the four of them had beaten Malfoy's vassals in combat before. _What it does is it makes this the decisive hour. We have to keep either side from killing us, sure, but if we succeed we'll unite them against us as planned. That might not translate into getting recruits, but it's the only chance we have. We just can't win with our numbers and we can't hide either._

Ron's thoughts turned to Anthony, champion of 'doing the smart thing', as well as the short, sad letter he received from Charlie. Despite the way it turned out for the Ravenclaw, in the sense that he had to lose his leverage and flee again, it was impossible to say there was an explicit problem with the plan of hiding in an impossible space in an undisclosed location, as long as no one minded that he had a pair of hostages. The Gryffindor sighed over his assignment, setting down his quill. Anthony probably thought that no one would care where their siblings were as long as they were alive and safe, and with Ginny it made a bit more sense than it did with the young man that Charlie mentioned, who apparently had only helped him unwillingly. In the interest of getting an idea where he was, a few members of the Weasley family had looked into the Goldstein family, that turned out to have members living in other places, notably Canada, which was where Anthony's younger sister went. It had been easy enough to determine that Ginny and Harper had never been there, though the detail had been enough to provide the insight that there were families more inclined to spread out than the Weasleys, not a high bar to jump.

 _'Course, it made a difference to us, whether or not he'd have known it. Charlie and the witch might've figured going after Anthony would at least kill her brother, but it's better to be dead than some kind of permanent slave._ The African wizard's situation almost made him feel sorry for Ernie.

Hannah had asked him how he had been feeling a few more times than he had cared to answer, especially when he had wished someone would ask about the twins, as he had seen neither of them in days. There was little doubt they knew what had happened to their sister, and there was simply no telling how they would respond.

Presently, he was working with her on their missing assignments, which the teachers had mostly overlooked. _Makes sense if you think about it. They assign a fair bit to keep us from fighting in the halls, eventually they forget what they handed out._ There was also the chance that anyone on the defense team had been given a temporary pass.

"Hey, Hannah, do you know what the Germanic rune for 'tree' is?"

"Not off the top of my... I think it's broken up into species, generally. There's a different one for ash or birch from oak. Don't ask me why," she answered, not looking up from her own work, which was an essay for Potions, a class he knew she hated, even after Snape left it to Slughorn. Oddly enough the four of them had been getting full marks in Defense. "It might have been something stupid like someone not realizing there were trees outside of their neck of the woods."

Ron smiled, but did not have it in him to laugh. The Hufflepuff girl looked up, the dark circles under her eyes made clear.

"What? Did I say something? I know you've had a lot going on since..."

"Don't worry about me," he said, not as softly as he meant. "You've an essay to write." _Ronald Bilius Weasley that might be the first time you've prioritized anything relating to-_

"I'm starting to hate Slughorn."

"Yeah, like you hated Snape. You don't fancy the class, doesn't matter who-"

Hannah glared, but her lip might have curled.

"No, I don't like Potions. I'm rubbish at it. I'm also pretty rubbish at History, but you don't see me hating Professor Binns." She shook her head. "Slughorn's a creep. He's teaching some of the older girls how to brew _love potions_ , of all things- and he keeps trying to add famous students to his 'collection'. I mean, he's teaching everyone in that year how to make them, but it's highly dodgy to even allow that kind of thing."

"I think my mum and her friends used to make them for fun. No idea about the specifics; prob'ly aren't too proud of it."

"Well... I mean, I don't know exactly what they do, but isn't that kind of disgusting?" she asked. "I'm not saying your mother..."

"I don't really know what they did with them, but somehow it wasn't so bad as all that. I don't think my mother would... do anything like that, really." _Change the subject._ "Who's he got in his little celebrity collection?" he asked, scrawling a rune he hoped would go unnoticed entirely.

"He mostly talks about people we might know, like Quidditch players and members of the Wizengamot, but I'm pretty sure a few of the names he's just casually dropped here and there are Death Eaters." _Might turn into something of a resource on the subject._ Ron had not been paying any attention to the teacher's droning, since it managed to be less interesting than Potions.

"He's the Head of Slytherin, like he was a while back. Anyone we know?"

"Too many. Did you know Hagrid and Voldemort were in school at the same time?"

"No. Might be he's got a reason for not bringing it up in our section." _I reckon there's a bloody good one._ "Bet he never stops talking about how he defended Hagrid when he was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin." He produced an annoyed sigh. It was the sort of thing people did in hindsight. At the same time, something about what he said stuck out as being odd to him all of a sudden.

"Not really. He admits to thinking he was guilty when they took him off to Azkaban, most people did. I suppose that's how he justifies it." Ron remembered something about the half-giant getting a reduced sentence because there was basically no real evidence against him, but the Wizengamot decided it could not simply imprison no one and expect to remain on the bench. _It's never just one bloody wanker._

Hermione and Terry walked in, identifying themselves quickly. It seemed they could never be too careful, especially not these days.

"It took us the better part of an hour to get in here," the dark haired wizard muttered, wandlessly summoning water from the tap. "I do hope you're pleased, there were three Hufflepuff first-years tailing us out of the Great Hall."

"Well, I hope you didn't have too much trouble with them."

"For your information, it's not as simple as stunning them whenever and walking off. We had to lead the first two in the wrong direction, stun them once there was no one around, and then another one started following us at the third floor going up to the fourth, so we had to stop on the fourth and to turn around and stun him too. _If we're lucky_ , they'll think we're on the fourth floor for the rest of the day, but where will we be after that?"

"Ron, I hate to say it, but we might be overusing this room-" the Ravenclaw witch started.

"It's not even that- as long as we sleep here, they'll know," Terry continued. "On that, the two of us are going to have to start staying here in addition to you and Mafalda. There are three conspirators in our House _to our knowledge._ "

"No one's saying we don't have problems," Hannah muttered. "If it's just three of them so far-"

"Okay, right, let's say it's just three of them. Tomorrow morning, they'll be up at the crack of dawn on the fourth floor, the dungeons, and the ground floor. If the one stationed on the ground floor sees us in the Great Hall before either of the others see us, they've eliminated the dungeons and the fourth floor. That gives us about three days before they know for certain, assuming they're using their time as liberally as possible-"

"We get it-" Ron started back.

"Now, if we don't assume that it's just three of them, we don't assume they're wasting time, and we don't assume _they won't use the mind arts-_ "

"Well, what do you recommend?" Hannah asked, her voice raising through her question.

"You begin to understand the severity of the problem," Terry started. "I am out of ideas. I should really be going through funeral services-"

"We're not going to just _die_ , Terry-"

"Why aren't we, Ron? What mad plan do we have to make some kind of sense out of this situation-" the Ravenclaw wizard asked, raising his hands above his head. "That's the question you have to consider- you say we can't die, why can't we? Dumbledore-"

"Panicking won't do us any good-" Hermione started back. "-no matter how bad the situation-"

"See, I'm not quite sure anything else will either, and I'm not quite sure any of you quite understand the severity- look, try and imagine the conversation they're having in Hufflepuff Basement right now."

There was a pause.

"I reckon they're trying to decide what-"

"No, that's just it. There's nothing left for them to decide. They had that conversation weeks ago when they decided Flora's trial was the school's last chance to come to the correct conclusion and just hold the Death Eaters' children hostage, or expel them and put them on terror watch lists- I don't know, whatever mad, unreasonable expectation they had. The law doesn't accomplish their objectives, but an angry mob will."

"Then the angry mob's going after the Slytherins, it's not going after-" Hannah started to object.

"It's not going after them, and the Slytherins aren't going after them. The conspirators need to get rid of us to get rid of any hope the fence-sitters might have had of law and order, a third side, whatever- Malfoy and his vassals have a personal grievance against us, and even if they were personally willing to let that stand, they've suffered an attack that does not come from the conspirators, which undermines the narrative that everyone who opposes them is working with the Department and the faction to tighten the Ministry's control. They're not going to be fighting, they're going to be tripping over each other trying to get to us."

The four of them stared at each other for a moment. Hermione looked like she was trying not to panic, if for no other reason than because of the consistent failure panicking usually generated. Hannah was glowering between him and Terry, who looked the angriest of all, with a visibly determined look about him. _If I could think of anything to say I'd bloody well say it._

"I guess we would have been better of leaving Flora to the wolves," the Hufflepuff witch ventured at length, not entirely sarcastically.

"We would have been better off _picking our battles-_ and don't pretend she would have been too much worse off expelled, her relatives would never allow-"

"It wasn't about Flora!" the Ravenclaw witch shrieked, raising eyebrows. "She, herself, can chew glass and die! It was about justice and law- and it was about the truth. Maybe no one would have ever found out if we knew she was innocent, but I can guarantee that there would be other attacks and other expulsions."

"If they were expelled, at least some of them would no longer be threats to us-"

"Then when they attack us in the future, we'll report them," Hermione insisted. "We can't fight them, not all of them, but at the beginning it will likely only be a few of them attacking at a time."

Terry took a long breath.

"There is no circumstance under which we can get them to attack in single file. If, in the unlikely event that a manageable number of them attack us, and fail, the next number will not be manageable."

_Then we'll just have to find some way of funneling them through a pass or something._

"There are... methods of slowing them down, like funneling them through a pass," he started, a bit uncertainly. "I mean, that might not work against some of the older students, but the point is that we have to think of a solution, even if it prob'ly won't work." _Can't just leave it there._ "And then, maybe there isn't a solution, but we won't know until we try and think of one."

"What do you have in mind?" Hannah asked, probably trying to steer the discussion away from Terry's reasonably certain pit of despair.

"Well, first of all, we should have had this discussion a long time ago. We should have prepared for the Hufflepuffs to come after us before we defended Flora, and we should have thought that Malfoy would come after us when we had him expelled. Well, our memories were erased at the time, technically they're still gone-"

"That's not a plan," the dark-haired wizard stated.

"I'm getting to that. We can't see the future, so we didn't know about Flora getting jumped by the mad Hufflepuffs, but we shouldn't have decided to defend her without you being able to say anything about it. I can't say we'd have made a different decision, and at the end of the day I really hope we wouldn't, but we'd have been more prepared for the consequences if we had some idea of what they would be."

"That would have been better," Terry conceded at length. "I would have appreciated the privilege to register my disagreement with the group's decision." _Noticed you're not calling it Hermione's decision; don't think I didn't._ "However, we cannot move effectively if we have to discuss our every move as a group. That's what the conspirators purport to do, but Hannah has told us that is not actually the case," he concluded, looking over at the blonde witch.

"They might have tried that in the beginning, but they couldn't risk the consensus going against the narrative; the whole basis of the narrative being fact was 'well, everyone knows it'. I imagine that even if they had everyone on board with the narrative all the time, they still wouldn't be able to order the first-years and the fourth-years to do anything if they had to assemble and decide it as a group."

"I guess we've been too small thus far to really think about having a leader," Ron ventured. "It'd be really, well, I don't know what the word would be-"

"Pretentious?" Hermione suggested.

"Sounds about right. Anyway, if we had a leader, we'd be accepting the decisions of... whoever it is by accepting them as a leader."

"Should we vote?" Hannah asked.

"No, I think this is one thing we really should discuss as a group," Terry decided, apparently interested in the idea. _He wouldn't be a rubbish leader._ "If we gain additional members, we'll install a term system. Does anyone want to be leader?"

There was no response.

"I mean, if no one else will..." Ron started.

"I would be willing," The Ravenclaw wizard responded. "Hermione, would you be willing to be the leader? I believe you were effectively the leader of the defense in the trial."

"Well, I was the one who proposed the formation of the group, in a sense, but if I remember correctly, you decided to join us at the end of second year when we were not entirely sure there was a group."

"Terry's leader, he'll have final say; let's move on," Hannah decided. The four of them looked around a moment, but no one disagreed. "We've been slacking on learning-"

"We're up to our arses in assignments-" the red-haired wizard rejoined.

"We also have more immediate concerns," the newly appointed leader decided. "Research will not put us any closer to a specific solution to the specific problem. We can't stop studying in the library, but we need to be able to defend ourselves. Ron."

Everyone looked at him. _Oh, I'm meant to suggest something. Can't say luck never did anything for me._

"Well, if we go everywhere as a group, they'll attack as a bigger group. We just need to stay within sight of each other. They probably won't attack in class; they don't want it to look like they're attacking our whole Houses. If you're alone, move quickly, like so they'll have to run to catch you, you can put up a shield charm over your shoulder and it'll hurt and block anything they were casting or trying to cast. Don't start anything; don't spend a lot of time in the Great Hall."

As the others received his advice, he had an idea that it probably sounded like he had only just came up with it, but there had been a natural progression when he thought about it. After the return of Voldemort, it seemed almost all of the students were on permanent high-alert, and it only seemed more and more like the school was going to the dogs with Dumbledore gone. War was not beginning anew, but reawakening, and he had already started preparing for the worst.

It had only taken him so long to realize it.


	35. A Conversation Overdue

Flora's trial had provided more than sufficient reason for learning about dark magic, which meant a much-delayed trip to the library was in order for Hermione and Terry. They would be out of direct sight, fortunately, as they had obtained a pass to the Restricted Section for trial purposes, then discovered that Hannah had broken the enchantment on the parchment causing it to disappear when it expired.

"I do the same thing with every other form I've signed," the Hufflepuff had revealed. _I shall pretend I did not hear that._

Once in the library, where the pair of Ravenclaws doubted they would be attacked, since Madam Pince had a way of stopping things before they started, the bushy-haired witch decided it might benefit them to ask Dean or Parvati if they could provide a demonstration of their illusion magic, as it seemed a good way of hiding, while stationary at least. _It might also be a good idea to ask if they would join us. I know from Ron that Dean's methods are not the same as mine, but with Terry in charge, cooler heads might well prevail._

Having thought about her knee-jerk reaction to defend Flora, which she could not entirely say she regretted, she had to excommunicate herself from the group of cool-headed people she had imagined in her mind. _I really should have done that first year. I can't even recognize myself from that time._

"Are you quite alright?" her friend asked, most likely expecting a response in the affirmative, as always.

"I'm just thinking about something."

"Oh, well, ask away if you have a question of any description." _Well, it was not really a question I would ask you, but I suppose-_

"Have you ever had to reevaluate the way you think about yourself? Sorry if that's a weird question, I know it's not related to what we're doing."

He seemed to ponder over it before responding.

"My parents were about as normal as you could get. There's really nothing to tell about them, except that I thought I would die of boredom," he started as they found a seat. Hermione cast a muffling charm. "I was slated for a standard career, same as my father, and everything indicated my education would follow that path; my friends would have to be made along the way, and I would be lucky to keep them. At Hogwarts, though, I adjusted to being out from under direct observation. It was a rewarding opportunity, exploring whatever I wanted in the library, but I decided I needed something more."

"What?" she asked, getting down a few titles filed under 'advanced magical theory'. _I wonder why these are in the Restricted Section._

"I needed a purpose. At some point a few years ago it was kind of like when, as a child, you imagine being swept up into some sort of adventure, or some sort of conflict and everything is simple from then on. You don't have to worry about what kind of line of work you'll do, and the bad sorts are so perfectly evil, you don't have to worry about any kind of consequence for acting against them. When Voldemort returned, I realized the world has no shortage of conflict, but it's more complex than what I would read in books."

"I read fictional books too, believe it or not. I liked _The Secret Garden._ "

"Why wouldn't I?" Terry asked, looking up from a massive tome.

"Never mind. Was that why you decided to join us?"

"More or less. I was reading in the library one day, and I looked up and saw... purpose," he concluded, if a bit ambiguously.

Hermione turned a page carefully, remembering some of the books were cursed. The two of them had divided research into magical law and dark magic as they had out of necessity rather than interest. Even three years after contending with the disguised Voldemort, she had no desire to so much as encounter the darkness again.

"I would say there's sufficient reason for most people to equate dark magic with evil," she postulated at length.

"Apart from the usual suspects? Do tell," the dark-haired wizard suggested without looking up.

"Well, apart from the fact that wizards who desire to stay within the law rarely research means to commit crimes, unless the research itself is a crime, the continued use of dark magic has been proven to change the user. That's in most resources on what we're researching, usually as a warning, though rarely does it explain how or why the user changes." She turned another page gingerly, finding a full-page illustration of a wizard who had contorted his lower half into a snake. The caption read: _Do not attempt to violate the seven conditions of conjuration._ "There are more than enough possible reasons for this, but the result is that only those who practice dark magic understand its effects on the user. From what I understand, the emotional effort diminishes over time, and I believe this may simply be analogous to a greater understanding of the dark spells, but there's another side to it."

"Most people can't actually kill without hesitation, at least not at first," Terry supplied. "They talk about it, they think about it; they can't do it."

"Right. Human beings are born with a resistance to killing others, the young more so than the old. It's integral to the survival of the species. Reasoning is rarely enough to get over this inhibition, really only the most strong-willed or well trained could manage it. I've read that there were wars, where at least at the beginning, the soldiers refused to shoot at each other. They would hand their weapons to those willing to fire, and if someone were hit, eight or nine soldiers would take it on themselves to take him to a doctor." She sighed. "With sufficient emotional motivation, however, even children can kill people."

"Children find themselves capable of quite a bit more than one would suspect, provided the proper circumstances. Every so often, there's a case of an extreme strength feat, and the Ministry usually has to send obliviators if it turns out to be an accidental levitation charm, but it rarely is. The muggles call it 'hysterical strength'."

"Well, yes, and that would be analogous to accidental magic. Hysterical strength is born out of some extreme need, and in many cases the subject is acting emotionally rather than rationally. Crimes of passion, then, would be analogous to dark magic, and to disentangle them, the barrier with the first is a physical barrier to overcome, while the barrier with the second is mental."

"There's another complication," the Ravenclaw wizard mentioned. "I needed to check something I had heard, and the Patronus Charm requires an emotional input, if of a different nature. _Advanced Charms for the O.W.L Student_ states that a happy memory produces an effective Patronus. It may be that no one classifies it as dark magic only because of the difference in the emotional input, or the distinctions may be significantly more complicated than we suspect."

"I would venture that the difference is not irrelevant. A happy memory is not an emotion in itself; it is not happiness that makes people cast the Patronus. A caster not acting rationally, unless overwhelmed by happiness, would be unlikely to succeed." _I really need more information one way or another. I should have learned to use the charm last year, when we went to Azkaban, but it's supposed to be a fifth-year spell, we were surprised with the trip, and I was busy with other research at the time._ "I'm not sure there is any non-magical analogy for the charm."

They continued to read for a moment after Terry agreed that if the Patronus Charm could be counted as dark magic, it was a far cry from the killing curse. The barrier to cast it was surmounted differently, suggesting a different barrier. Hermione could not help but feel as if everything they had said was written in a book somewhere, as it all seemed so simple when they discussed it, but thus far she had not seen it written. _Publishers likely err on the side of caution with anything that might be a resource on dark magic, especially something particularly destructive. From what little I know of Fiendfyre, it seems unlikely there is a book anywhere in this library with instructions on how to perform it._ She remembered the old families of Britain occasionally had extensive collections, which was quite possibly where the Death Eaters learned the dark magic they occasionally demonstrated. It was doubtful the two of them would ever read through those libraries, but it was starting to seem like the only way they could obtain more knowledge of dark magic, which it seemed they would need.

"Hermione, would you prefer to learn a standard dark spell or the Patronus?" her friend asked at length.

"Ron practiced the killing curse. I can ask him about it." _I really need to learn how to do it myself. If the legal system is ever completely corrupt, we'll have no choice but to start killing the people who attack us._ She rolled her eyes internally. _That's assuming we won't need it to survive anyway, like we would if we were attacked by people with advanced shields... or another werewolf._

Even as it approached a year after the event, she was unable to let go of her guilt.

"That might work. At the same time-"

"I'll see if he can teach it to us off the grounds. Hogsmeade would be best, since we'll still be in a wizarding area, and the wards for dark magic are only for the castle," she said as she rose, remembering she had assignments to complete, as well as regular studying. It seemed Terry would not be following her.

"Speaking of Ron, we had a recruit."

"Oh?"

"Mafalda wants to join us. I would guess she is not content to take up space in the room without being part of the group." _She did tell me a few things I needed to know about the Slytherins for the trial..._

"Well, when we were that age-"

"I turned her down," Terry explained. "Her heart is in the right place, but the reason is all wrong. I told her that since Ron and Hannah spend a lot of time in there, either one of them would be best for helping to get her up to speed."

"Did you tell them to scare her away from it?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"I haven't spoken to either of them, but they probably will."

His words stayed with her as she walked off. In truth, she would have liked to have Mafalda in the group, but the safest thing for her would be to teach her and practice with her without handing her responsibility. It was easy to remember the time they were worried about her having been captured, especially because of her reaction. _She must realize that we can't just rely on her. Right?_

Remembering that it would be a bad idea to leave the library without Terry, either for her, him, or both, she decided to work on assignments. The group had almost entirely given up on the Triwizard Tournament, as any of the champions had a fair shot at winning, and there was little the students could do anyway. To keep things fair, the tasks after the first had probably been delegated to each of the other Headmasters, as she had some idea that Karkaroff was behind the dragon. It was nothing like what Snape would suggest, going off his potion riddle in the Underground Chambers, and the race was most likely Madame Maxine's doing, as she seemed to have a specific aversion to violence. _-not that anyone would give her credit for it, as a half-giant._

She had some idea the assignments were meant to keep the students from fighting, but she doubted she could rely on the effectiveness of the plot. Malfoy and his vassals, as she had learned, had been expelled to Durmstrang, where the coursework was rigorous enough, but unlikely to take up all of their time, since dueling at the Institute was less 'tacitly allowed' and more 'a central component of education'. Killing or seriously injuring another student was more than enough to get them expelled, and the penalty was probably even more certain with foreign students, since that made it legally confusing, as demonstrated, but similar penalties had not stopped them in the past. _If Draco gets expelled from Durmstrang, he needs only brush up on his French and try again, though some of his 'associates' will not be so fortunate. Many of them likely do not even have French relatives, much less family members in high places._

Thinking on the system that seemed to be employed in the wizarding world as she worked through a Transfiguration assignment, and of course it seemed unfair, but it served to explain quite a bit. There was some quote she barely remembered about the dress of the eighteenth century European upper class being the same across countries, because they were aware of each other and emulated each other, but the common folk wore different raiment even in the same countries. She had previously made the connection that the Latin-based incantations were simply the language of western academia, standardizing the incantations as immutable descriptors of the effects. _Magic seems to work the same way. What people learn in Hogwarts and Beauxbatons and likely the North American school is mostly the spells created based on the theory going around in academic circles for hundreds of years, with some amount of national distinction. Folk magic would vary exponentially more, and in countries that were never part of the western academic world, folk magic would have become national magic, and would be taught in homes and smaller schools._

Opening one of her own books to a blank page, Hermione drew six overlapping circles. _Folk magic, national magic, international magic- no, this doesn't work._ She turned to another page and drew a large circle with 'International Magic' in its center. _I'm not used to visual representations. I have to start with what I know._ She drew a second, smaller circle that was almost entirely consumed by the larger one, but did not make up its majority and labeled it as national magic. _We can assume that each involved nation contributes to international magic, but not all of it is accepted by academia, and the majority of spells cannot be localized to any specific country._ A smaller circle overlapped with national magic, labeled as folk magic. _Britain's folk magic is less studied and less developed than that of other countries. Her national magic not only unified the folk magic, but created new spells and theories. Pre-Statute wars drove innovation into effective combat magic, as well as Divination, though advancements that tried to force it to be clearer and more reliable ultimately failed and were forgotten._

Around what she had so far, she drew a circle labeled 'Understood Magic'. _Folk magic might have been dark or accidental originally, but with repeated practice and teaching it to younger generations, the theory would have been hammered out over time in folk wisdom. In any case, it can now be studied by those sufficiently interested._ Overlapping the largest circle, she drew a smaller one about half consumed, labeled 'Ancient Magic'. _Much is known, much is forgotten, but how much is uncertain._ She was aware that some books referred to the different practices across cultures and times as 'the ancient magicks', but it broke the format. _No reason to do that, now is there?_

Created spells belonged in the large circle, though within that it was somewhat harder to say. Of course, the individual created spells most of the time, but there were also spells created as a group effort, and the magical theory involved could come from any level. Dark magic and accidental magic belonged outside the large circle, though the prior was at least consistent and contained incantations some of the time, so she put it in a circle around the known magic, and accidental magic outside.

 _Where does the Patronus Charm go?_ She thought about it for a minute before deciding one of them would simply have to learn it. Terry seemed to have implied that one of them or the other would learn dark magic or the Patronus Charm, and it would be her choice as to which. _If I decided to learn the killing curse from Ron, then he would be asking after one of the teachers to see if he could have a private lesson._ It seemed most of the teachers were capable of the charm from the trip to Azkaban, though she was unsure of how much of the adult population could produce a patronus.

 _Had the prison with the dementors not been destroyed, it might have become a controlled spell, to be caught by the wards on the wands._ Hermione could think of no better way to raid the prison and not have to worry about the guards than casting the charm, so preventing people from practicing it would theoretically prevent them from practicing breaking in. _It would also keep them from being able to defend themselves against wraiths, but I doubt their deaths are relevant in the long run. A full dementor is a cooperative dementor._ She had a passing notion that surely the Ministry would have managed to work something out with the nonbeings, since they were ultimately rational entities, but she doubted they would willingly go down to the Department of Mysteries, even if they knew prisoners were being kept there, since the risk of some unknown entrapment was too great.

All of a sudden the processing taking place in her mind came to a halt.

_There was another purpose to the Triwizard Tournament._


	36. How to Skive Off Tasks

Hannah's mind was adrift with concerns, and the least of them was the Tournament. Of course, it would be better if Fleur or Cedric won, but the gold mattered little and the glory of winning even less. The next full moon was almost upon them, Malfoy had not made a move in the last few days, but likely would soon, and there was a substantial chance of dementors being on their way to Hogwarts. _They'll say they're here for the prisoners, but they're not seriously going to lead them through the school. There will probably just be an 'accident' and they'll roam free for as long as possible._

She imagined she was wearing something of a glum expression on the way to Hogsmeade, on a spring day full of fog. Hermione had sounded a measure desperate, reassuring herself that Terry had already set himself to the task of the Patronus Charm, something that should be effective against dementors. For her own part, the blonde witch had difficulty seeing how it would work long term. Could they consume a patronus eventually? How many of them could it protect?

Justin Finch-Fletchey stopped her in on the path.

"Hi, Hannah."

"Hi, Justin."

"I'd like to join your group," he offered.

_Why?_

"That's great," she responded, somewhat uncertain. _He was never front and center of anything. He's the closest thing to what Terry would call a fence-sitter in Hufflepuff. Well, apart from Neville, that is. He's kind of an outlier._

"I understand if you don't trust me," he explained curtly after a moment of silence. She had honestly not known how to react. "You might also have expected someone more capable, more well-known-"

"Well, it's not anything like that, it's just that it'd really be up to- well, it wouldn't be up to me. I can't just make a final decision for everyone."

"That's alright. I expected that, actually. A lot of the Hufflepuffs have been discussing the proper response for people who are neutral to blood purism, and the short of it is that it doesn't look good for me. I've been neutral to blood purism for years; when I hear something I've consistently turned a deaf ear, and I'm sure someone's caught me by now."

"I see. So now that we have dirt on you, we can trust you?" she asked. _He's not calling them the conspirators. He's calling them the Hufflepuffs, which is what they claim to be._ "I'll pass along what you told me," she offered, hoping he had no idea of Legilimency as she walked past. Occlumency was difficult to so much as understand, and she imagined that Malfoy had started on it before ever studying how to go on the offensive.

They had arranged to meet by the Shrieking Shack. From what she had seen, from a distance at least, there was no direct way in, but Hermione would likely figure something out. When she arrived, having had to trek through the brush a ways, it seemed a ladder up to a window had been conjured out of rope. _Oh. That's pretty simple. I had thought it would be something absurdly elaborate, like polyjuicing into a teacher and asking to be allowed in for a conference, then obliviating everyone._

Ron and the others were already there, sans Mafalda. _If anyone should be learning this curse... no, she's probably bogged down with assignments._

"We're all here, then," the red-haired wizard stated. "Well, the basic challenge of the killing curse isn't the theory, and it gets easier with practice, because it's basically something everyone understands. Not really killing people itself, but wanting someone dead, enough you'd do it yourself." He drew his wand. "That's actually something that makes it a bit harder. Your target has to be someone you really hate, and you can't just cast one at Malfoy and get away with it. Made me wonder how the Death Eaters got good at it."

"What did you end up doing?" Terry asked.

" _Serpensortia,_ " the Gryffindor incanted, a twisting black snake appearing on the floor. "Spell came from India, 's why I think old Salazar or someone must've went there at some point. D'you reckon it's a real animal?"

"No, I believe conjured snakes are animated by the intent of the caster," Hermione explained. "It's a spell most fourth-years can manage. It's important that I understand how this works," she continued. "How exactly did you decide you hate snakes?"

"Well, I don't, so I had to make one I didn't like. That's where it gets complicated again."

Everyone stared a moment.

"How did you manage to make one you did not like?" the Ravenclaw wizard asked.

"Couldn't tell you. Just do your best at it, I guess. Tell you what, have a go at this one."

As Terry rose and attempted the spell a few times unsuccessfully, Hannah could not help but wondering what Ron had meant by making a snake he hated. She stared at the reptile, its head moving around on a swivel. It tried to get out of the way of the spells, but could not seem to find a way out, or even settle on a direction. _I can't help but feel like it's confused._

"I can't do this. I don't hate the damn snake."

"Try summoning one," the other witch suggested, already attempting it herself. Unfortunately, it seemed hearing the incantation and knowing the effect was not enough for the conjuration. " _Avifors,_ " she incanted simply, conjuring a small, white bird. Pointing her wand at it appeared easy enough, but the spell would not come out. _I suppose that's why Ron suggested making something you don't like._

"You can't kill it without the intent to kill it," the red-haired wizard obviated, extinguishing the snake he had conjured.

"I should hope not," Hermione responded, glowering. "I could do it with a flame charm."

"Well, start there."

Everyone was watching her as she incinerated the bird with a wave of blue flames. Conjuration was difficult for Hannah, as it required a lot of theory, but she had some idea that casting the killing curse at a proper target would not be impossible for her.

"Was that the first time you ever killed something?" Ron asked.

"Well, yes, but I'm not so naive that I didn't understand the implications-"

"Well, 's all right. Have another go at it."

The bushy-haired witch rolled her eyes and tried it again with a new bird, but it appeared she was having no greater success.

"If I might."

"Do _you_ have a suggestion, Terry?" _Her tone is still not that impolite. She's got a bit to go before she starts shrieking._

"Well, we're all new to this dark magic matter. If you knew any dark spells, I would suggest-"

"Oh, so it's easier because I'm using light spells." Giving it a thought, the Hufflepuff quietly decided it actually might be true. _Using a light spell is like flipping a switch on a machine._

Hermione grabbed the bird and wrung its neck.

Without saying a word, she conjured a new one, an overlarge crow, and pointed her wand at it.

"For the record, I don't see how that was necessary," she explained, her eyes somewhat narrowed. " _Avada Kedavra._ "

The bird died in a green flash.

"Brilliant, Hermione," Terry said after a moment. "Perhaps you can explain it to me in a manner we would understand."

"The bird looked differrent than the others," Hannah volunteered. "You didn't use a different incantation, though." _She made a bird she didn't like._

"The caster is the one animating the bird, Hannah. There's no way to just create a living thing," the Ravenclaw witch explained, sighing. "Snapping the bird's neck didn't make it easier for me to kill things. It reminded me of a coldly practical part of myself that... well, it's not important."

She and Terry attempted the curse a few times, though he managed it first, deciding to move on to the conjured snake after that. _He might want to see if it gets easier._

The blonde witch managed a green light on the bird her friend conjured for her, but it was not a complete spell. _If you get hit with that do you die?_

"Maybe I just need to try a few more times..." she started.

"We need to be out of here. The Third Task is starting and we could be expelled for skiving off," Terry explained.

"If they expel us for something like that and they'll have no one here inside a fortnight," Ron muttered.

"We should at least see what happens," Hermione returned. "I for one would not like to risk expulsion on your suspicions."

"Alright, then. Tell us what happened when you get back," he proposed.

"We can't leave the two of you alone and we'd really rather have you with us," the witch said, waving away the mess they had made of birds and snakes. _That seems like a useful spell._

"Well, stay here with us," Hannah decided. "After what happened last time we went to a Task, they'll probably be glad to be rid of us."

After a moment Terry sighed, adopting a diplomatic tone.

"Perhaps you could tell us why you don't want to go. Then we would know more about whether or not we wanted to go."

"Well, I'm just frustrated by our attempts to cheat all failing," she responded honestly. "There's no way we can change the outcome. There's just no point to going and we should really be focusing on our spellwork."

"Then we'll have to have some way of covering for our absence," the Ravenclaw wizard insisted.

"Don't worry 'bout that mate," the Gryffindor countered. "When something goes wrong, they'll blame it on us, and we couldn't have done it if we weren't there."

"It may be even more likely than you think that something will go wrong," Hermione argued. "Our disinterest in the result is not an acceptable excuse-"

"I don't care about that because it's a distraction!" Ron shouted. "The Ministry's moving whatever kind of dementors they have to the Chamber and they know that we're all going to be out on the Quidditch Pitch when it happens- I can't prove it, but it's where they want us to be."

"Okay, how do we know they won't just feed on the prisoners as agreed?" Terry asked. "If they're feeding on prisoners, they're not feeding on muggles, and if they're a problem, the teachers can deal with them."

"That won't work," Hannah objected. "Even if it's just a few of them, all they have to do is spread out and then the teachers won't be teaching class when they're dealing with dementors and they'll get sacked- it was one thing when they were outside the school and we all ran out like idiots, but having them inside is basically a death sentence for some first-year walking down the wrong corridor. We can _completely_ eliminate the possibility of good will here- if they were trying to help, or even creating a problem for us with only the best of intentions, there would have been an article in the _Prophet._ "

"You don't _read_ the Prophet!" Hermione shrieked.

"Neither do I!" Ron argued. "If there'd been an article, it'd have been all over the school!"

"So what are they going to do, then?" Terry asked, leaning forward. "If they don't intend to put dementors in the school, since they would be easily noticed, and if they were going to be noticed the Ministry might as well have told us-"

"I don't know," Hannah responded, forcing her face into a determined expression. "I don't know exactly what their intentions are because I wasn't listening when they were discussing the plan. I can guess, and I can guess something else, and we can all wonder which it is, and then both of those things will be wrong. What I know is we have to do something about the dementor transport."

She knew that there was no conclusive evidence that such a transport was taken place, only that there was some motive, and this would be the last opportunity. _Everyone else knows it too. They're just trying to make sure we do the right thing._ The four of them silently walked through a dark passage leading out of the tall, dilapidated building, most likely to somewhere near the school. It was clearly the real entrance, and the direction of the tunnel matched what she had seen out the window.

_That's all we really can do, of course. We can't do anything that works, we can't make informed decisions, so we do the right thing._

As they reached what appeared to be the end of the passage, they heard twisting wood above them, branches popping as a nearly felled tree.

"It's the Whomping Willow," she guessed.

"How does anyone get out of here?" Ron asked, growling a bit.

"It most likely goes both ways, so it should be around here..." Hermione speculated, going out a narrow, earthen tunnel with a faint light filtering down. "Here it is-" The sound stopped and she looked down the hole at them. "There was a ward on a knot in the tree; it seems to be entirely immobilized."

"Good enough for me," the Gryffindor muttered back. _She must have some way of detecting wards. I imagine that kind of thing would not just be visible._

The four of them were out of the hole and making their way to the school when they heard a sound.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

"Sounds like it's far away," Hannah guessed.

"What are they doing casting it now?" Terry asked, starting off at a run. She and Ron were a touch quicker picking up on his lead than Hermione. "Why- did- they- not-already-" he trailed off, shaking his head from the front of the pack. They followed him to the castle itself, where he slowed down. "We wouldn't have heard if if they were inside..." he tried to explain. "We have to be quiet..."

They crept around the sides of the castle, looking around corners carefully. It helped little that the corners were immense, rounded, towers. When at last they were nearly opposite the way they came, Ron described a group of wizards with a few active patroni and a flat cart of some sort, a glowing yellow ward on its surface that seemed to be containing the dementors. _That won't work for any length of time. They wouldn't need to feed them-_

"Death Eaters? Unspeakables?" Terry asked at a whisper.

"No idea," Ron muttered back. "Can't do anything yet, there'r too many of 'em. They'll just kill us on sight."

"Can we ward the area and lead them through it?" Hannah asked.

"That kind of thing works with a tosser like Evan," he answered. "They aren't stupid enough." The blonde witch turned to Hermione, but she shook her head.

"Even if I knew more wards, they can get past them if they know anything about them," the Ravenclaw witch explained. "Ward breaking is easier than curse breaking, and they can be shown as easily as they can be hidden."

"It's better we know what's going on here than jump in and die over it," Terry decided.

"But-"

"I'm deciding this as leader," he announced at a hiss. "We have to stay quiet. I'm not promising there's going to be an opening."

 _He's never invoked his authority before. I suppose there wouldn't be a point in having it if he didn't, though._ Somewhere in the back of her mind Ron was describing what the wizards and dementors were doing.

"Not a word out of them so far- must've planned this for months- looks like they're going to go inside- dammit, what are we getting out of this?"

"Maybe nothing. Keep watching," Terry ordered. Loath though she might have been to believe it, Hannah had to remember he was right. It would not be the first time they risked their lives on a wasted effort.

"Wait a minute- that's Crouch- if it's not, it's someone who looks a hell of a lot like him." _In either case the other men accept his appearance. They're not Death Eaters, unless they know he's polyjuiced._

"He wouldn't be, though..." Hermione looked at her. "He wouldn't be disguising himself if he didn't expect to be seen. That's the real one."

"Bit faster on his feet than I thought he'd be..." Ron muttered. "I still don't get it, I mean it's something he'd do, but isn't he supposed to be at the Task?"

"He could have easily had someone cover for him," the dark-haired wizard contended. "He needed an alibi- the schools gave him the perfect one."

"We can't stop them... do we tell the teachers about this?" the witch next to him asked. "Professor Snape would be furious..."

"They could get the dementors out..." Terry started, visibly thinking. He started back the way they came. _I suppose we really can't do anything... nothing we would survive, anyway..._

"Crouch could get in deep shit over this, you mean," Ron interjected. "We can't say we were here-"

"You can't convict someone on an anonymous tip," Hermione explained. "The law says a wizard has the right to face his accuser. Anyone we told would ask us to substantiate our claim-"

"Then we'll prove it's not really Crouch on the Quidditch Pitch," Terry decided.

The next few minutes were a blur, a blur of running and hushed voices where they might have been shouting had they not been afraid of being heard. Ron was insisting that it was faster to go the normal way while the Ravenclaws seemed to be saying they had gone too far back in the tower's direction already. He might have convinced them or he might have only won by his boldness, running across the grounds as Hannah followed him, forcing the other two to follow or go by themselves. For the life of her, she could not say, and she did not care. Whether they reached the pitch in minutes or seconds she had no idea.

The next thing she knew they were standing in the box reserved for the Headmasters, Headmistress, and Ministry officials including Crouch and Ludo Bagman of all people. _What the hell does he even do here?_ Ignoring whatever the Champions seemed to be doing behind them, Terry was facing Snape, trying to catch his breath.

"Professor Snape... in the interest of... justice and possibly a threat to... the school-"

"Spit it out, Boot."

"I need you to confirm... the identity of Department Head Crouch," he requested, looking one last time back to Ron.

"It was either Crouch or a damn ringer."

Some momentary wave of discontent passed over the old wizard's face as Hannah looked at him, but it was gone as the school heads turned to him, one by one. Perhaps there were students watching them, but she failed to see how. _Anyone here would be looking at the Champions behind us. I don't remember giving the box a second look._

"This is absurd," Crouch started as Snape turned to him, shaking his head after only a moment. "I might have thought the grand and sanctimonious Albus Dumbledore would never leave his school in the care of a Legilimens."

"My predecessor was skilled in the mind arts as well, but... no matter," the Headmaster muttered. "That he chose to waste his abilities is no concern of mine. Weasley, for what reason do you suspect-" he started to ask, his tone growing infinitesimally more hostile by the word. Karkaroff magically cut off an objection from Madame Maxine, but Hannah doubted anyone else noticed. "-that the wizard you see before you is not Crouch?"

"There's a man who looks just like him- he's putting dementors in the school. There were loads of other-" Snape waved his wand, silencing him.

"Before you hypocritically fly off the broom handle with accusations a second time, be sure to... open... a book. Have you even an inkling that Crouch has a-"

"No!" the Department Head growled. Hannah looked around frantically, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel what was coming. "This has gone on long enough. The independence of this school and the utter anarchy it has allowed must come to an end."

In the chaotic stillness, the one thing she saw clearly was the amused smile Karkaroff wore, if only for a moment.


	37. The Champion

Draco had been watching the Task with relative interest, but he knew it was of no great significance. The champions had been tasked with going through each his own maze, a circular logical puzzle that confounded them at every turn. Rather than shadow the Pitch with darkness and deprive the spectators, someone had come up with the idea of blinding them, though they had been told it was simply dark as a tomb. _I had assumed Evan would puzzle it out, though I suppose that for them it makes no difference._

One of them, probably Fleur, had tried early on to use a light charm, but found it perfectly ineffective. _I suppose it would be if Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder were involved. Knowing Evan, that was what he assumed._ The Heir of Slytherin had conjured a snake and levitated it above the walls of the maze. _How fitting. The greatest cleverness, from time to time, lies in the simplest solutions._ The Hufflepuff wizard of no known distinction attempted to summon a broom to fly to the other end of the maze, but this only presented more problems. A live gryphon screeched from its perch in the hedge maze, forcing the champion to avoid it, only to run into a living vine of some sort rising from the maze. _Longbottom might be able to identify that one. At least now we know why broomsticks are tacitly permitted._

The French champion seemed to be having difficulty with the maze itself, mostly because it changed quickly and she could not see, making it more and more difficult to keep a map of it in her head, if that was her intent. _The task is to get through the maze as though a brain in a vat._ Somewhere Evan was frustrated in his discovery the maze walls were resistant to fire charms, growing back immediately. The Malfoy heir assumed that the snake would inform him of better ways to go.

Goyle, to his right, had been stationed to watch out for threats while Crabbe had been asked to simply watch the crowd and speak up if he saw anything unusual, confusing, or otherwise of interest. Draco had thought to clarify that something confusing would be something that would confuse even him, as opposed to either of his henchmen. Consequently, it came as a moderate surprise when Crabbe pointed to the officials' box.

"Seems to be something going on, but I can't say what it is."

"All well and good, get a bit closer and find out." _If it's something important I'll be able to hear him with the mind arts._

In a sense his henchmen had become extra eyes and ears, though they had to stay within a certain range, which was alright with them. For once Longbottom was somewhat less useful than either of them, being too forgetful to use as a spy long term. Out of frustration, he had even tested the wizard's ability to remember with Legilimency, and his concerns were validated.

_Now what I need to do is address my concerns._

For days, perhaps weeks, his vassals had been itching for proper vengeance, and it had been a shame for many of them that the trial would interrupt their plans, with Davis even leaving over his unwillingness to drop Flora's case to pursue her defense team. _I should have expected dissent in the ranks, though I imagined it would be Derrick. Bole needs me, as I deflect those who pursue the punishment of his minions. He is soon to leave Hogwarts, and they will either attach themselves to another Quidditch player, Evan, or me._

Crabbe found something, though he was too far away for Draco to ascertain what.

"Goyle, watch the match," he ordered quickly as he went after his other henchman, wand at the ready. _I can never be too careful. Our intelligence, namely Bole's second-years, has determined the more likely target of Hufflepuff ire to be the defense team, but enough of them would not resist the opportunity to kill a blood purist._ Most of them would not use dark magic, he knew, but it would be bad enough to be blasted out of the stands. His amulet beat against his heart as he neared his destination, reminding him of the unfortunate habit of forgetting to wear it he had developed in the middle of the year.

He stayed out of view of the box as he close his eyes and listened for Crabbe's surface thoughts, which he understood to be the wizard's only thoughts.

Crouch was speaking, a moderate surprise. He had not deigned to say much since the Tournament began.

"I have had enough with your pleas, I have no use for pleas, no use for sentiment, no use for aught but swift justice for the scourge of this school, the civilized world, and common decency. For your part, be aware that effective immediately, the Ministry is seizing control of Hogwarts from its leadership, leaving it to the discretion of the governors and the Office of Magical Education. Resources containing information on dark magic will be destroyed, and its use punished with extreme prejudice."

He heard objections from the box, but he cast sparks in the air, drawing attention to himself from others in the stands. _Crabbe, keep your eyes on the box._

_The fault is mine and I shall do better._

"Faculty found to be in association with dark magic will be removed from their positions and investigated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the results of the investigation will directly determine an appropriate punishment. The students have no use for dark magic or blood purism, which will likewise be erased from the library, the staff, and the students who do not comply with the new order."

Goyle was tapping on Draco's shoulder.

"What?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"Evan just won."

"All well and good- rally the vassals to my position- they'll know you didn't think of it yourself."

He assumed the henchman disappeared as he closed his eyes again.

"Hogwarts has a long-standing contract with the Ministry of Magic, being the older institution." It was Professor McGonagall's voice. _I suppose there would be room for her- it isn't as if the other heads have deputies._ "For one party to renege on the agreement, it would have no hold or authority over the other, and a new contract would have to be drawn to change the terms. Already, however, I expect you have no intention of doing so. I expect you intend to enact the same myopic policies you attempted during the last war, and the cooler heads you called cowardly will have lost their positions. All of our discussion, with the exception of Headmistress Maxime's insistence that we concern ourselves with the dementors, has been entirely pointless, as you have precisely no authority to enact the changes you wish."

"That is where you err," Crouch returned. "I knew from the beginning of this Tournament that the results would spark an international incident, precisely what the Minister had been hoping to avoid after the greatest Secrecy violation in history- committed by your predecessor no less. His decision to acknowledge the return of Voldemort came at the worst possible time, his recognition of the Kyanzittha government in Burma has resulted in a mountain of skulls, and the International Confederation of Wizards, including the leader Babajide Akingbade himself, has issued a request for his resignation."

It was not the first Draco was hearing of old Fudge's troubles, and it was doubtful that he would survive a vote of no confidence, but neither he nor his father had expected a coup. _He'll be pleased to learn that all of this is according to the Dark Lord's plan._ His mind returned to the time 'Karkaroff' told him the results of the Tournament mattered little, as they would serve his ends under all circumstances, and his only intent behind entering Evan was to force him to practice and study, as well as familiarize himself with an environment where people were trying to kill him.

 _I have heard enough of the conversation, and I need to have my vassals about me if I intend to unite the House of Slytherin._ As his eyes scanned the crowd and picked up Parkinson and Nott, as well as one of the Beaters, he heard Crouch making a revised version of his announcement, by all appearances uniting the House of Hufflepuff in sympathy.

 _I could kill him. It will be years before anyone is this close again._ He shook his head, disregarding the notion as soon as it came. The Lord Voldemort himself clearly meant for the Department Head to live, and Draco had better sense than to defy his will in front of him. _We should concern ourselves with uniting and escaping. The moment Fudge learns of this speech, he is almost certain to resign. I do not even require my father to know the old fool cannot abide criticism._

Paying no attention to what the other students were doing, what they had of the vassals assembled, more expected to join them as they moved. Nott threw down a container of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder as Crabbe knocked out a nearby sixth-year for watching them. The darkness could hardly be expected to cover the whole Pitch or even the stands, but the sun was setting and it would provide the advantage they needed to retrieve Evan. _He could reasonably protest that he hardly needs the protection, but he hardly needs the gold, so at worst it's all the same._

Having looked around the stands as they made their way down to the grass, the thought crossed his mind that even the Dark Lord would not survive if it came to a duel between him and everyone who wished him dead, and though his list was far longer, Evan's grew by the minute. _He's less of a threat, but that means there are more who think they can kill him._

The defeated champions were still on the Pitch when the vassals arrived, both of them less than concerned with Evan, looking instead to their own schools and making some effort to calm down the screaming crowds. The French students had united to some sort of chant he could not quite make out, as a conjecture he might have said they were calling it unfair, as Delacour was using the word 'juste' frequently.

"How did the match go?" Draco asked as they lead the Durmstrang champion to the stands, noticing only then that he was carrying the head of a cockatrice.

"I won."

"I heard," he responded quickly, heading to the stands of their own school. "I was watching Crouch- apparently he means to take over the school when he becomes Minister."

"We have our own."

"We have a school, yes, and one we shall enjoy more than the former, yet the current situation on this island is not to be discounted entirely. Dark wizards from distant lands have been watching the conflict carefully, and they are correct to view Britain as the tipping point. If she is lost, the whole world will follow."

The Heir answered with only a scowl as they found the others. He turned to Parkinson.

"You will remain at Hogwarts and continue to serve as my vassal and my contact whilst I am abroad."

It was everyone else's turn to look at her. He could already hear the words coming out of her mouth. _How could I say no?_

"It would be an honor. To be the sole contact of someone in the good graces of the Dark Lord himself, well-reputed among the Death Eaters..." she trailed off, perhaps hoping for some form of confirmation that his standing with his betters in any way resembled what he had implied, the exact opposite of the truth.

She would not receive it, but if she held disappointment in her heart, she gave no sign.

"There are students here who can provide you with a glamour ring- I think Brdzola might have mentioned a Polish witch-"

"Get it to her by Owl Post," Derrick decided. "I have feeling this term's letting out early." He pointed at a demonstration going on in the Beauxbatons stands, the familiar spellfire of dark magic among the students. _The Auror Corps will be here any moment- Crouch probably had them on standby, Merlin knows he still has friends in the Department._

"It is time for the dark wizards and witches among us to aid our brethren," Draco started, Nott's wand to his neck as he addressed the crowd of Durmstrang students. _Davis might even join in for this- where is she now?_ "Already the great House of Slytherin moves to reach the side of the French sympathizers-" _I placed Bole in their numbers for good reason. When he rises, the minions rise, and the die is cast._

To his surprise, the response was mostly silence, though the bolder among those who could speak English laughed.

"What do we concern ourselves with your conflicts?"

"The war for magic transcends nationality and language-" he started back, remembering Evan was something of an outsider in the school.

"We have no loyalty to the Lord Voldemort," an older student called, somewhat more respectfully. "Perhaps there are dark wizards among us, but is he the one to lead?"

"Have you loyalty to the school?" he asked reflexively, remembering too late that he was meant to keep the Headmaster's identity a secret. "Durmstrang Institute has altered the academic resources to match those of the Death Eaters." Some muttering could be heard. _They noticed- all the better-_ "Those who have been following the Headmaster's _ex officio_ remarks on the Tournament and international cooperation understand that his goals are very much aligned with the Dark Lord, and he was once a Death Eater himself. Thus far he has served his master under the table, and he has served well. Had he done anything else, we would have thrown him in front of a train."

The statement seemed to take effect. It was not as if every student was entirely loyal to the head of the school, less so the real Igor Karkaroff, but there was a respect that was due.

"Might be working," Derrick whispered. "Goyle is among the Slytherins- it'll be Bole in the lead, though." _I expect the Ravenclaws on our side and the dark lions will be taking their leave when the moment presents itself. Our French allies have fewer choices available._

"United we present a force greater than any that could be mustered by the other two schools, fewer than half of Hogwarts would rise against all of us, and fewer still of Beauxbatons- they will know they need to strike quickly to keep us from rallying, and strike our allies they will-"

He smirked internally as a forceful shout came from the stands, the students rising. The world seemed to pause, perhaps because he willed it.

_Fear._

_There is only one motivator that can stand against all others, twisting them and turning them on each other. Let lesser wizards raise their armies with talk of goodwill, talk of future peace, and let them watch as they break ranks before the threat. Gervaise Malfoy who beheaded his men for desertion, as suits his name and heritage of necessary force and fear. These were things we always understood, in the dark of the dragon trenches and the mountains of the rune meisters._

_The only way out is through._

"Let us rally! Show them our combined magic!"

As the Durmstrang students willing to join the vassals rose, he scanned the other stands. A sizable amount of the Gryffindors were on the pitch with the Hufflepuffs, isolating those unwilling to participate. _For them, I suppose that's clever enough._ As Draco and his followers made it to the ground level, the sounds of broomsticks sweeping through the sky could be heard.

"Shield charms!" he ordered. "The idea is to minimize French casualties, not make ourselves out to be the aggressors- the world is watching, let them see who is a threat to magic and who would defend it." He doubted many of them were blood purists, but one had to find a purpose for the dark magic one wished to practice, and the other side would not allow it. _They should count themselves lucky they have foreign wands- many of the Hogwarts students are already under the Edict._

The agreement to his order registered, but with as little enthusiasm as expected. _Bloodthirst is easily cured by blood. The conspirators in the lesser Houses and regrettably even a few Slytherins talk of violence, but their first taste of it will be metallic and cold. Suffering is the price of remaining human, else being lost in the dark._

As they surfaced from the base of the Durmstrang tower, their shield charms were mostly protecting them from bombardment from above. Confused shouting seemed to ask who it was in different languages, but there were no answers to be had. Looking through one of the clearer shields, some spells were coming from the flying Aurors and Hit Wizards, though some of it was longer range and less accurate, from the black and yellow tower opposite them. _Damn Hufflepuffs- they waited for the authorities to fire on us so they could pick the same target._ Some amount of long-distance shield charms were making it to the Beauxbatons tower, though it was difficult to ascertain who was being aided.

"Non-lethal!" someone called, likely hoping to just quell the conflict before it became more confusing. The Aurors were breaking their shields, but the sleeping charms and body-bind curses were reaching the French students, if less than accurately.

"Fall back- we've done what was necessary!" Draco called, maintaining his Occlumency as a weekend Legilimens tried to break his mental shields. _The Prophet will rip us to shreds tomorrow, but the students will know the truth. Ours was no unprovoked assault._ Having read the news only once or twice in the last week, he wondered if the paper continued to try to appear impartial, but he doubted it was a major concern. The editor, he knew from his father, was required to submit each headline, from the front page to the last, to the Minister's office, meaning it was being read by whoever replaced Umbridge.

Impartiality, however, was a raw deal for the truth that its guardians would only accept while not in control of the press. When, at long last, the Death Eaters were in control of the Ministry, they would not long entertain the notion of reforming the press that it would be fair and receive all positions with neutrality. A _Prophet_ under blood purists would print only the truth, starting with the muggle threat. In their numbers, there were those like Gibbon who believed that the truth would naturally percolate, and there was no need to enforce its exclusive publication, but the time for coming to the correct conclusion had already passed. Those who could, having seen the evidence, realize that the muggles and 'their' children were a security issue, already had, and they already fought with the Death Eaters. All others were either opposing ideologues serving the destruction of the wizarding world or braindead fence-sitters, content to hesitate and avoid the issue until it came knocking on their doors.

"What now?" Bulstrode asked behind him, breaking the silence, as the last of them were back in the stands, crowding at the lowest level.

"Malfoy, what are our orders?" Nott started. "Already the Ministry's wands have put us to flight-"

"They will quell the dueling for now," Draco answered. "Healers will have to respond to anyone injured. As soon as Crouch's appointment to Minister goes through, they will be our enemies. Our allies will need a way out." _This is not the place and time for the war to begin. This is where the lines will be drawn._

"Do you think he'll really get the job?" Parkinson asked. "His numbers from the beginning of the Tournament-"

"It's not a popular election, so the numbers are suppressed," Crabbe answered. _I should have left him closer to the Dark Lord. He might have heard something valuable._ "My dad says they started it back in seventy three or something, because they didn't want assassins to know who the picks were."

"In their own country, the dark French may be safe for a moment, but the disease Crouch is spreading will arrive there soon enough," Draco explained, returning to the point. "Sorting them out will be no challenge, but we shall need to send them home as soon as possible, and the Headmistress will have enough reason for haste." He turned to the Durmstrang students. "The time for choosing sides is come."


	38. Interlude: Electrum

The chaos stilled before his eyes as the Aurors suppressed scuffle among the French students.

"They have restored order as I hoped," he said, mostly to himself as he moved a lock of his sandy hair out of his eyes.

"Are the muggleborns okay?" Leanne asked.

"I don't know. The Slytherins and our guests from Durmstrang would have been targeting them, but whether they were hit or not remains to be seen." Electrum had little doubt that the blood purists were training, but he had misgivings that their regimens were half so disciplined. _We know from the spies that they think we do nothing other than conduct witch trials. They are unlikely to suspect that training younger students to fight is our first priority._ A third-year witch had taken it upon herself to learn a basic form of Legilimency, which they hoped would glean more information out of Longbottom. _He can't be as forgetful as he claims, even if he believes it._ He had not been a valuable spy, or even a willing spy, but a contingent of the Slytherins trusted him and he left an easy enough trail to follow. Ultimately, he was too valuable to be suitably punished for his disloyalty, and he stood to become all the more valuable.

_All of that may change, however. We have forced the fence-sitters within our House to make a decision. By rising with us to oppose the aggressors, the dark French, they chose to side with us, and the blood purists will not forget their decision._

"How many remained seated when we rose?" he asked Leanne. In the distance the Aurors were talking with Crouch in the box for the heads of schools. His eyes narrowed on the sight.

"Only a few, but we can't blindly trust everyone who went with us," she responded. "Most Hufflepuffs have already sworn up and down that they're loyal only to the House."

He let the point stand. _I can't tell what they're saying over there. One of our French friends might get it out of Madame Maxime._

"The plan to get someone onto the defense team did not work," he said, changing the subject. "They never invited the French student, Capet, and Finch-Fletchey had the same amount of luck." Capet had not been on their side, but he was well connected and known for being bad at keeping secrets, well, speaking his mind. He had asked some sympathizers from Beauxbatons if they knew anyone he could direct at a mysterious group, and he was the first they mentioned. A seventh-year Hufflepuff witch talked to him under the pretense of practicing her _langue de Molière_ , as she put it, and told him about a few interesting characters, like the students who supposedly encountered a werewolf that killed the Supreme Undersecretary and acting Headmistress mere moments later, though not in terms so incriminating.

He sighed, only partially taking in the conversation going on around him. He had not expected to be staring at Aurors on broomsticks, wondering if they would have to be taken down as well, with the possibility existing that they were blood purists who intercepted Crouch's request for their appearance. He had not expected to read in the paper one day that Zacharias Smith, injured, had been portkeyed to Saint Mungo's by a handful of wizards who discovered him in west Africa, of all places. There would be no sympathy for deserters, but it was possible he would have information.

More than anything, however, he had not expected to use a code name so long it would essentially become his actual name.

'Electrum' had been Ebony's idea, though she never said where she came up with either her name or the one she gave him. For his first and second year he shadowed her, gaining enough approval that she started telling him how everything really worked. She told him her true name was Enid Bagnold, daughter of a former Minister, dissatisfied with the way the war ended, the way her own mother handled it, and what she made of the House she had called home for seven years. When Voldemort appeared to have died, the old witch did not track down every last sympathizer for interrogations, she 'asserted the inalienable right to party', defending the festivities that mostly constituted Secrecy violations, and allowed former Death Eaters to blend in, hosting galas and soirees and whatever else at their stately manors. What should have been a chance to pounce on the blood purists turned into a bacchanalian, and as a consequence Enid finally understood why she did not follow her mother into Ravenclaw.

"My mother was a lazy intellectual," she had told him. "She didn't want to fight, not for want of willingness to take reasonable risks, but for the work of fighting, the killing and the deaths. I asked, and she told me that the more resources the Ministry spent, the more Death Eaters they would find, but they would be finding progressively fewer and the cost would be progressively higher. At some point I decided that was unacceptable."

It had been a process gaining her trust, or something approaching it, as she herself said that she trusted no one at all, but he managed it well enough. He had some idea he had not betrayed her trust, as she would have written to tell him he was doing something wrong. Leanne, who used the name 'Electrum', even when they were alone together, had asked how the two of them met. He could not identify the look in her eyes at the time.

"Electrum-" someone started, rousing him from his memories. _I have to stop being contemplative. At a turning point, I suppose I would have an inclination to go over how I reached it, but turning points are where I need to think clearly most of all._

"Yes?"

"Macmillan has heard that Crouch has received the Minister's letter of resignation," Boris said. "I must return." He left, shuffling his feet quickly as always. Electrum had heard something about his having a physical handicap, but it almost looked like he simply did not realize how large he was. Boris was over six feet and at least eighteen stone, somewhat larger than he, but the causal observer would never guess from the difference in their mannerisms.

"Does this mean that Crouch is Minister?" a younger student asked him.

"I don't know. It seems likely. He made some offhand comment about Umbridge succeeding him, so he might have wanted someone from the faction, but we can't expect him to stand by it." _Even if he possessed any strength of character, he made a specific statement about the Supreme Undersecretary, who lies dead._

Ebony had possessed some hope that Fudge would be better than her mother, but her hopes were dashed. After Hogwarts she worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office under Umbridge, where she realized the real decision makers worked in the Department of Mysteries. Transferring there, she learned about the true purposes of the Inspections of Hogwarts from the head, Ether. He decided to make her an Inspector because she had saved a whole head of hair from when she was younger, enabling her to seamlessly hide among the students, even outside of the permitted Inspection years. Not attending classes to keep the teachers from paying attention to her, she had more than enough time on her hands for study, as well as recruitment. That had been a difficult process in itself, having to regain the ability to relate with students, then learn how to get them on her side in a meaningful way. It was easy enough to hate Death Eaters, but many seemed to think the current system was sufficient for dealing with them. At some point she decided to give up on convincing them honestly, at least for the time being, at least until she had a following, and she started throwing 'and sympathizers' in every time she so much as mentioned Death Eaters and dark wizards. Convincing a few witches in the dormitory that they were the same was easy enough, the somewhat harder step was to convince people the sympathizers were the same as those staying out of it.

Eventually, when she had something of a following, the seventh-years leaving Hogwarts went on to seek out positions in the Ministry, comprising a small part of the faction. _That was also when she decided she was never going to use a completely honest policy in recruitment._

All around them, there was a fluttering of owls.

Some of the younger students rose to see if any were headed for them, but he would not waste the energy. The birds generally knew where they were going- what was concerning was the quantity. He could not be remotely sure how many there were, since they were still moving, but it was more than he had ever seen in one place before. The teachers were making amplified announcements about this, as they had also been trying to quell the fighting before the Aurors arrived, but it seemed the students were not all inclined to heed their cautions. The owls that did not succeed in tossing their packages and letters to their intended recipients were stunned, petrified, or scared off by some more dangerous spellfire their animal minds could not identify. Some sentimental part of him hoped the stunned owls were being knocked out of the sky before they could be killed by someone else, by their actual owners ideally, but it seemed more likely that however many were getting to their targets, more were being intercepted.

He doubted he was witnessing any acts of cruelty, expect the cruelty of indifference, but rather desperation.

The changing of a Minister was an everyday occurrence for those who had lived long enough for two or three to pass by, but these were children and they were watching something much closer to a coup. _The reason Crouch has not been seen outside of events he is required to attend is because he has been putting constant pressure on the Minister. When the Death Eaters escaped to foreign shores, it was a disaster for the Foreign Relations office, and an opportunity for its head. He could have made some effort to distance himself from his son, though the Fudge family might have had some sympathy, having come under mostly groundless suspicion after the incident with the self-appointed Burmese diplomats._

What was even more profoundly terrifying the students in the other boxes than the sudden nature of Crouch's takeover was the inevitability with which it would crush the invalid way their society functioned. For the Slytherins, it meant the proximate deaths of their parents, in many cases, and for the rest it meant an absence of the network of connections they used to hoist themselves into positions they did not deserve. It meant a new system, where children with nonmagical parents would be treated the same as the rest, if not better, to compensate for their past experience. Once a week Hufflepuff House held a discussion about abuses they had suffered either as a result of blood purism or dark magic, and each muggle-born was required to submit a detailed report in advance of his or her presentation. It was likely painful to write, but it hedged out the possibility that a student would get up to speak, then not remember key bits of information, which happened a few times the previous year. Leanne usually read through the reports, and she found that a common thread was that blood purists seemed to enjoy using memory charms on their victims.

He found the Hufflepuff seating area sufficiently lacking in chaos, though he had to tell a first-year not to cast a light charm. It was getting dark, and light would make it easier for them to see each other, but they would be totally blind to anything else. It was better to wait for everyone else to cast theirs.

"We need to watch carefully. Our House is built on decisive action, but we know only that we have a friend in Crouch. The Aurors might be blood purists," he whispered to an older witch. He omitted that, given the choice, some of the Hogwarts staff and some of the Durmstrang staff, including both Headmasters, would likely side with Death Eaters if they revealed themselves, which would cause more than enough of the students to side with them, as familiar authority figures. _Since the death of Albus Dumbledore, ineffective and naive though he was, the students have lent the staff here even less respect, much of it deserved, since they recognized a former Death Eater as his replacement. The majority of the student body is at least nominally against dark wizards, but in their fear they refuse to fight. Their enemies are few, but powerful, and it is easy enough for them to let someone else to the job._

"Electrum-" Boris started. "The defense was there in the box-" He was nearly doubled over, a hand on a knee, his feet on different steps.

"Slow down," he responded. _He's probably referring to the defense team that represented Flora Carrow._ The attack on her had not been planned, and it had been intended as a show of force to a virulent blood purist, but its failure had provided an opportunity to put her in prison, or at least the Chamber of Secrets, with the other prisoners. Ideally, she would be dead within minutes, unless she found friends there, which would be contrary to what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement stated in the agreement, that the prisoners would be criminals not in any way associated with Voldemort. _It would not be a legal punishment, but the law knows nothing of justice._

"The defense team, you know them-" He nodded. "They were in the officials' box. They might still be there, I don't know. One of them was insisting that Snape examine his memories to prove that Crouch is trying to put dementors inside the school."

A younger witch, who had not seemed to have been listening, whipped around.

"Well, if he's so confident that he would allow Snape to look in-"

"There's a good reason for that," Leanne interrupted. "Out of some dangerous naivety or a more concerning alliance, he trusts the former Death Eater. It's impossible in the first place that Crouch would be putting dementors in the school; he's been here the whole time." She huffed. "Really, this all seems terribly convenient. There was a way for _any_ result of the Tournament to turn into an international incident- so someone who didn't know Crouch would have been here the whole time came up with a plan to discredit him, and when the Minister resigned, someone else would be selected as his replacement."

"Additionally, Crouch does not have dementors under his command," Electrum added. "It's not really his office in the first place, and any method to transport them and direct them would have to involve some kind of dark magic no one understands. There was even an article about the Department of Mysteries and their failure to securely keep dementors in their own basement. Really, he had his appointment in line until this accusation came up, so there would have been no reason to violate the agreement he had with the school."

"Well, those are all good arguments, but if they want to present evidence-" the younger witch started again.

"It's not evidence," an sixth-year wizard spat from behind. _I recognize his voice. I think his name is Lawson._ "We don't use it in court or investigations because it's easy to fake. Crouch was pushing for its use decades ago, but only on people he already knew were guilty, or if they couldn't have conceivably faked their own memories between their arrests and trials. Parkinson convinced Minister Bagnold that the Hit Wizards would use false memory charms on suspects to get what they wanted out of them, and she made Veritaserum and Legilimency inadmissible."

"I wish I could have been there," Leanne said facetiously. "He was supposed to be famous for his ability to talk his way through the process of letting Death Eaters off."

"The decision let the Death Eaters off, but we really have no need for courts, so it's a moot point. With the kill on sight decision formally instated, the Wizengamot will have little to do but pass the laws we give them."

Electrum began to tune out the conversation again, watching carefully what was developing in each box. The Hufflepuffs were in a good position as it was; there was no need to ruin it by forcing an all-out battle. _It would also be better to stop one rather than allow it to start._

The Ravenclaws seemed to be sorting themselves out, their conversation loud, but more or less orderly. Gryffindors seemed to be looking for a fight, but he was doing much the same thing. _The ones looking to start a fight will be the dark lions. They're the ones who have everything to lose here._ It was already more or less agreed that it had been the dark wizards among the French who started the scuffle in their stands. He was proud to say that he had the Hufflepuffs assembled in mere moments after the first spell was cast, but it made him feel oddly disappointed that both sides just went back to sitting quietly in the stands as soon as the adults arrived, though he reminded himself it was conditioned in for most children, and he was barely more than a child himself, even in his own eyes. Given a lifetime, he might catch up to Ebony.

Across the way, the discussion in the officials' box seemed to be coming to a conclusion.

"It's official," Boris explained, returning. "Crouch is Minister. Fudge only just got done with his speech in London." _He would make a speech just to drag it out and act like he's only passing the torch._ "Don't know why he bothered to say Voldemort's back, unless he meant to say Crouch's the only man who can fight 'im." _It's as good of an excuse as any. If Crouch says he warned Fudge not to hold the Triwizard Tournament in Britain, he probably won't even bother to deny it._

The hour was too early for rejoicing; there were too many enemies with too much to lose. His eyes went quickly between the Slytherins and the Durmstrang students, looking for any sign of movement. It would be easy to respond if one of them declared a counterattack, but few of them were that stupid. They were blind with prejudice, to be sure, but they were a crafty sort and more likely to find some way of turning the situation around, the way Lucius Malfoy used the war, even as he was defeated, to advance his own position. _Think- there must be something they have in mind-_ There was no conceivable way Death Eaters would have roles in the Ministry; Crouch would be mad not to eliminate anyone with even a tenuous connection to blood purism. A violent demonstration now would be wasted while they were horribly outnumbered, and it would put all of their parents in an international incident. _What could it be?_

His mind turned to those who defended Flora Carrow- _I never would have suspected it._ They were dangerous fence-sitters, to be sure, raisers of unhelpful questions, perhaps, but Death Eater allies? His confused, uncertain expression vanished. _Voldemort formulated many plans, and this one was the deepest. He drew students close to him during his short time as a teacher. He made sure to select a few from outside his House, he convinced them to make safe arguments; to avoid blood purism or advocacy of dark magic. They played their parts perfectly, even now they only resort to a patently false accusation as a last resort- or as a cover._

"Boris. We need to restrain them."

"I beg your-"

"We can't afford to let them do whatever they're trying to do. They'll fight, and if you see anything that even resembles lethality, kill them."

"The school-" Boris objected as they rose. A few friends were coming with them.

"The school is powerless; it will soon be undone. Hogwarts has managed to avoid fault in student deaths since Myrtle Warren, and this will inform the world that the school and its leadership are relics of the past. We should not be keeping the memories or the virtues of the Founders alive in modernity, we should be fighting blood purism at all costs."

A few friends had risen when he gave an order, but it seemed the whole House would come with him now.


	39. Forced Retreat

Mere moments ago Ron heard the new Minister announce he would have sedition charges filed against him. The school was still objecting, some of the teachers with their wands out despite the shouting from the Aurors, but all he could hear clearly was Terry shouting for them to run. Hermione activated a fire ward she had set on the floor while no one was watching as a cover as Hannah missed with a stunner. Ron jumped from the officials' box, the striped awnings over the stands rushing up to meet him, the witch hitting shortly after. _Good idea- wouldn't want to break through-_ Hermione grasped for her wand and regained it as he grabbed her arm to get her out of Terry's way. Out of the light of the box he could barely see, but his overworked mind managed to guess that the Ravenclaw wizard had thrown her out.

"Damn decent of you, Terry!" he shouted back as Hannah landed after him, getting up quickly, her wand still in hand. Students below them were shouting and calling out, but no curses were coming after them from that direction. Seeing that Aurors were pursuing them on broomsticks, he sprinted, forcing them to move around with a few spells that came to mind, but not even delaying them as they aimed stunners at their Hufflepuff as her shields were breaking. The Ravenclaws hit the ground with cushioning charms as he dragged Hannah over the edge, landing painfully, but ultimately unhurt.

"To the castle..." Terry managed, catching his breath as Ron fired off whatever he could manage. Hermione was putting a shield over Hannah's shield, seeing their pursuers were targeting her. _If we argued about where to go, we'd be dead._ The shields seemed to be working from what little he could observe as his vision constantly readjusted, but the Aurors had been more than sufficiently trained for such a scenario. The two that were still chasing them raised walls of earth in their path, dodging as their leader tried to produce a patronus, of all things.

It was the distraction Hannah needed to hit one of them with a body-bind around his shield before falling to the ground. Ron assumed the other two were dealing with the other Auror as he ran to her, his wards activating as he was hit with a stunner, which bounced off. _Damn- prob'ly can't expect that to work too many times._

Her body was not entirely limp in his arms, which was a good sign. She was breathing and he realized he was saying something to her, though he knew not exactly what. Her hand rose suddenly and pointed directly up. _Right- the other Aurors can't be far behind._

In the dark sky he saw no other pursuers, at least not for the moment, but that was the least of his worries.

The moon shone bright and full, its pale light coming from behind the castle in the distance.

"Damn it, no, not tonight, anything-" _There was a reason she didn't want to come to the Task- she knew it would drag on into the night._

"Ron, leave her."

He whipped his head around, wand still in hand.

"We can't leave her!" he shouted back. "They'll arrest her like they were going to arrest all of us! That's if they don't kill her for being a werewolf-"

"She'll kill us. Ron, she'll kill us and you know we can't kill her." Terry explained firmly. Hermione was in tears.

"They can't put her in Azkaban... wherever she is, we can find her. If the Aurors find her-" She shrieked as she jumped out of the way of a stunner from the stands.

" _Petrificus Totalus_." he growled, turning and running toward the castle with the others. _They won't attack her if she's been frozen- well, they might not, I don't really know. I can't say it's going to work if she transforms._

A dark mark appeared in the sky above the school, leading him to wonder if any Slytherins had stayed behind.

"What are we going to do?" he shouted as they ran. _Castle should eliminate any advantage the Aurors have by being on brooms- they'll get their friends back up and it'll be four or five of them after us. We'll need to hide._

He wanted to hope they would investigate whoever had cast the mark, but he knew it would be all to easy to pin it on them, possibly the dementors as well. _Terry's been practicing the Patronus. It'll be enough for the Prophet. It's already enough for Crouch._

"Where are we hiding? They can get in the Chamber." he asked. It seemed to take Terry a moment to process the question.

"Astronomy Tower. They'll think we're going as low as possible, but we'll be going up." The dark-haired wizard decided. "Grab some brooms- we need a last resort."

Ron obeyed, entertaining traitorous notions of using a broom to rescue Hannah, but it was doubtful she was even still frozen in place by the full-body-bind. If that were really an effective solution to turning into a monster, someone would have thought of it. There was no way he could transport a thrashing werewolf, even inside a charmed impossible space like they had used with the Slytherins. Catching her and putting her into it would be next to impossible, even without the Aurors on their arses, and there was a serious risk she would destroy the walls of the container from the inside. He could not quite explain the properties of an expanded space, nor was he entirely certain his current understanding of it was correct, but creating a hole larger than the exterior side seemed patently impossible, though from the inside it would be. If any hole were created, the contents could be shrunk to scale, sucked out through the hole, or the space outside the box would distort to match the magical distortion, or any other outcome likely to result in Hannah's demise.

His mind jumped to plans for the future as he climbed the stairs behind the other two, but nothing was working. It seemed obvious to come back disguised as someone else, like Ebony, and there was a chance that the teachers would pretend not to recognize him, but Snape was almost certainly getting removed and with him gone it would probably be impossible or nearly so to get anything past the new management. The old Potions master was famous for turning a blind eye to Slytherins and took points from Gryffindors whenever the opportunity presented itself, but really he could not have cared less about dueling in the corridors, even if he really had the authority. At times it seemed bizarre to Hermione or one of the other students like her who had been to other schools, that students would be fighting and injuring each other so frequently, but it was ultimately a question of respect and authority. It was almost anachronistic for her to refer to Snape as 'Professor', even during class, the other students flagrantly disrespected him, either out of the belief that he was an active Death Eater, or for not crushing the first group under his heel. The same people who lacked respect for Dumbledore saw his appointment as the last foolish decision of an old fool, though it made him wonder who exactly would have been better.

The three of them took refuge away from the windows that led to the top of the tower, unable to see out of them in the darkness and lacking a reason to make their position easier to discover or describe. Ron felt his legs cramping, but there was nothing for it. _What are we going to do? Where do we go from here?_

"What's going on out there?" Hermione asked, looking out the window in frustration. She gasped.

"What?" Terry asked, dragging her out of view.

"It's the conspirators. There have to be at least fifty of them- and they're all coming this way."

"Aurors're prob'ly trying to contain the crowd after the scene we made." He realized they might also be trying to contain Hannah. "They'll be up and flying again soon, but they'll be the least of our worries." the red-haired wizard muttered. "Three Hufflepuffs covering every exit; we'll never get out."

"The room- it's not far." The Ravenclaw wizard suggested. "It might even be safe from the dementors." _I'd almost forgotten. I've had a bit to take my mind off it, 'course._

They checked every corner on their way there, but it seemed more disturbing that they saw no one. As they arrived Ron figured out the reason for his suspicions.

"Where's Mafalda?"

"She would have gone to the Task with everyone else..." Hermione started, not seeing her in her usual haunts.

"They're not after her." Terry interrupted. "They're after us. We need to prepare for what happens if they know we're in here."

Ron wished they had Hannah with them, even just for the mad ideas she usually provided. A mad idea seemed like what they needed.

"What if they didn't see us when they came in here?" he asked. "Chances are, it won't be an Auror."

"Well, no, there are about fifty of the students, so out of fifty four or five there are only- it doesn't matter, it's really negligible by comparison. Are you saying we need to hide?"

"We hide, then we use a false memory." Everyone looked at Hermione, who shook her head.

"I'm sorry; it's almost entirely a different spell." she explained. "I've been doing magical research..."

"No, it's fine, it's prob'ly ten times more than I've done in my life." _What would Hannah suggest?_ "What if we made an impossible space?"

"There are ways of detecting if someone's in the room." Terry said at length. "It's like a human detection charm, and impossible spaces won't block it in any way. It's what Hit Wizards do when they're searching a room, I think. I've already eliminated invisibility potions."

"Can we levitate a container from the inside?" he asked, trying to think of what their favorite Hufflepuff would say.

"I don't believe so." Hermione answered. "I've been shrunk before and you don't seem to have the same, well, power as when you're at your normal size. The levitation charm has its limits just like a shield charm."

"I doubt any of us can learn how to create a portkey in the next few minutes, hours, what have you- depending on the time distortion." Terry started, leaning against the back of the couch and running a hand through his hair. "I really wish we could just think of some way out of this, but I don't believe there's any way for the three of us to escape fifty or so of them; it just doesn't work. If we think of something, chances are they've already thought of it."

Ron's hopes came crashing down on him as he sank into the chair opposite the couch, his head spinning as he had a bizarre memory of an earlier conversation- one where his and his friend's positions seemed to be reversed. _I said that. I said that no matter how much thought we put into it, they'd have more to put in._ The cogs stopper turning at last.

"I'll only be a moment." he muttered as he rose and went to the door, ignoring the objection from the others. As he opened it, he petrified a startled-looking Ernie Macmillan and Hermione levitated him into the room with _mobilicorpus._

"They'll come looking for him!" she hissed. "They'll know where he went missing."

"I know; we don't have a lot of time. NICK!" he called out, ducking a silencer from behind.

"What the hell are you doing- the ghosts can't-" He closed his eyes.

_Help is always at Hogwarts for those who ask. Help is always at Hogwarts for those who ask-_

"Ron? What are you doing out of the room?"

It was Mafalda, along with Fred and George. Parvati was a few steps behind them, with Cho Chang.

"How did you-" the Ravenclaw wizard started, ushering everyone in.

"I had to trust your brothers." the Slytherin witch answered, looking at Ron. "I knew they'd be closing in on you, they probably still are- who is that?" she asked, pointing at Ernie.

"He's a bellend." Fred muttered.

"A right cheeky one at that." George complemented, stepping over the frozen Hufflepuff. "Your friend told us where you'd be. Somehow we picked up these two after that."

The spectral knight appeared before them.

"I say, it's been a fair length since I've seen you, Weasley. The dementors in the dungeons are frightening- to some, of course, but not to me."

_We need to find Hannah._

"Please, Nick, if you see Hannah Abbott, you know her, she's from Hufflepuff- or well, if you see Dean-"

"Do you know any way out of here?" Terry asked, interrupting.

The ghost shook his head, a disturbing sight though it was.

"I am afraid the only way out I can imagine would involve advanced tunneling charms. I could promise to scout for you along with the other spirits of the castle, but before long we would be noticed. As a matter of interest, where are we? I daresay I have never seen this room before."

"We have a better way out." George started, handing him the experimental polyjuice gum they had first developed two years ago.

"That's the new and improved formula; it should last a fair bit longer." Fred added, looking around. "We haven't got near enough hairs for it, and you can't all just be this tosser-" He indicated Macmillan. "-so you're going to need to be us."

"We can't-" Hermione started to object.

"We're involved." Parvati argued. "You can't un-involve us. You three and Hannah are the only ones trying to fix things, not just make them worse for someone else. Everyone's too scared to take your side because they're convinced you can't win, but if you don't win then it doesn't matter who does." She sighed, looking around. "I've been talking a lot with some of the people in our year. I said I'd throw up red sparks when I needed them at my side, and Cho came. What's with the brooms?"

"We were planning a potential flight." Terry answered. "It would have been a bad idea even with invisibility potions, but it was looking like our only chance." It became clear that their spectral companion had already left them, perhaps to see about their friend.

"Where were you going to get them?" Cho asked. _Prob'ly referring to the potions._

"Hannah said something about how this room can be whatever you need it to be." Ron explained. "If we get everyone out, we can go into a room full of potions."

"I'm not quite sure we can just create potions out of nothing." Hermione said. "Even potion ingredients would be a stretch of what should really be possible with Transfiguration. Based on what Hannah has said, and my own experiments, I've discovered that every time we access this room, we can find whatever we left in it, but only if we access it the same way every time. The reason the contents of the room seemed to fluctuate wasn't because the room was resetting itself, it depended on who opened the door and what he was thinking at the time."

"This is all very interesting-" Parvati started.

"What we need is a room where people have left potions." she continued. "Either that or a place to brew potions where resources have been left to accumulate for later use."

Though it was not clear exactly what the bushy-haired witch needed from a room filled with potions, they agreed to exit the room, bringing Ernie with them. Three students from his House had come to investigate his disappearance, but they were quickly outmatched. _Must've been thinking we'd split up._ They turned back toward the door, the twins watching either side.

"Take your time." Ron encouraged, if a bit dishonestly. Hermione closed her eyes and walked to where the door was meant to be, but it did not open. She tried again. "Try something else." She glared before walking toward the door again.

Three of them went into the room, leaving the Hufflepuffs outside with the others. It seemed Terry was talking with Cho, so Parvati followed them in. As they looked around the room filled with potion bottles, ingredients, books, and tools, it occurred to him to ask where Dean was, but it was almost always something important with him. He had asked Sir Nicholas to see about him, which he probably would if he failed to find Hannah, most likely if she were to be taken away from the castle.

"What is this place?" he asked, looking around for anything useful. He was glad he could levitate things without particularly focusing on the magic itself.

"Students used to get rid of their old potions things in here. I think they realized nothing degrades here, so anything they failed to use by the end of the term could be used again." Hermione answered, holding a dusty book. "I would think this book is the most recent, and it's from the thirties."

"We need to get move on, even in here." the Gryffindor decided, rummaging through a cask of potion bottles. They heard a banging sound outside, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the Ravenclaw running for the door and Parvati shoving a few stoppered flasks into her school bag. Even the glass vials were enchanted to resist impact, so she was probably not going to poison herself. Outside there were dementors in the hallway.

"Bollocks there are three of them-" he started as soon as he saw. The twins were barely delaying them with fire charms.

"We can count, you-"

"It's better to just get out of here." Fred argued, interrupting his twin. "The three of you need to disguise yourselves as these wankers." He said, indicating the Hufflepuffs on the floor as he tossed a polyjuice gum to Terry, who severed a lock of hair.

"More of them the other way!" Parvati shouted, shielding as she made illusions to draw fire. It appeared to be coming from a group of Hufflepuffs, an Auror along with them. _Damn! I should've known they'd send a second search team when the first one went missing._ The shields seemed to be holding, but he was hardly paying attention, casting a body-bind where the opportunity presented itself and hitting wands with knockback jinxes to reduce their accuracy. It was something he could do more quickly than cast curses into shields, but it seemed only marginally more effective. The one Auror was plenty skilled to shield the entire group of students who had taken his side, but it seemed he was doing something else with his wand. As one or two of them fell to a spirit thing Terry sent out, an older Hufflepuff panicked and hit the ceiling above them with an advanced explosive curse, causing the castle's wards to flicker. He persisted in the effort, forcing the Ravenclaw wizard to try to keep it held up with a shield. He saw Cho bend down for some reason in the middle of the fight, but Ron only managed to shout her name as he dodged a dangerous looking curse breaking through the failing shield.

His head whipped around as Hermione shrieked, the dementors being forced toward them by a patronus shaped like some kind of massive walking bird. _We're being pushed into the shields- they'll suck out our souls..._ His thoughts grew less coherent as he forced himself to fight, as his brothers were hit by a stunner and a sleep hex of some description, as the Hufflepuff with a penchant for explosions kept trying to bring the ceiling down on them. He might have cast three or four curses before being brought down by a body-bind to the foot, from a student lying on the ground to get under his shield. _Numbers win every time... we should have stayed inside the room. We could have moved the bodies somewhere... somewhere else._

He knew nothing that entered his mind at this point would change the fact that his decisions might have cost the lives of all of his friends, but learning from losses was a habit ingrained in him as far back as playing Percy in chess as a small child. A boot hit the back of his head.


	40. Resisting Arrest

Hermione's head was bleeding, but it seemed Ron had it worse. Fred shook his head when she stared back at him pleadingly. _He can't tell if he's still alive. He's not saying he's..._

They were immobilized, most of them, though some of them were only bound by leg-lockers as they were dragged across the mostly smooth floor, the dementors just behind. She could not remember what happened to her, not precisely, but she was thankful that the Auror was keeping the Hufflepuffs in line. It was easy for them to hate the people they had just fought, and when Ron was knocked out she thought they were all going to be executed immediately. Somewhere in the back of her mind the trigger happy older student was being reprimanded for endangering everyone in the school.

_That kind of thing shouldn't really be possible... my head must be clearing... the castle's warding should protect it from even advanced explosion charms._

There were possibilities to consider, of course; she doubted Hogwarts had suffered any attacks in a thousand years, and in that time the protections had likely gone out of style, to say the least. There were ancient magicks that had been forgotten, deliberately or otherwise, but in a contest between a century old shield that had never been broken and someone who could make a new sword, she would pick the swordsmith every time. At the same time, she had a suspicion that something in the warding had been weakened, and unless her ears were deceiving her, the hushed tone in which the Auror was speaking to the students told her he thought the same thing.

_He's still thinking about the dark mark above the school. We didn't use dark magic against him, so we might not have cast it._

She racked her brains, but it seemed almost impossible for there to be any of the Slytherins or Durmstrang students to have waited in the castle, and highly unlikely they would put a mark in the sky for no apparent reason. It seemed like all of Evan's supporters in the Tournament had been excited to attend the final task, where they expected him to win, demonstrating the superiority of dark magic, blood purism, or whatever their angle was. Hermione had already tried to assess their current situation, but it seemed genuinely hopeless. It seemed Fred was the only one of them who could move at all, and he was without his wand. Terry was unconscious, but that was only because of a stunner, his body was not rigid like Cho's or her own, though the Chinese witch seemed to have it the worst of them all, being stunned and stiff as a board.

"We're stopping here," the Auror announced. "We might be walking into a trap."

"A trap?" one of the Hufflepuffs asked. "How can this be?"

"I think there might be Death Eaters around. Look, I've allowed you to help this far since we couldn't search the castle on our own, but I'm not going to be responsible for it if one of you gets killed."

"We should not let the prisoners die," the same boy said. "They might have valuable information."

"Right. Take them to a classroom and watch them. Don't let anyone in until I get back," the Auror said as he walked off. He spoke like he was easily convinced, but it seemed more likely he was just being decisive in a time-sensitive situation.

The conspirators obeyed orders, but it appeared one of them had an ulterior motive for magically dragging them out of view.

"We should kill them," he started. "There are three of us left, and eight of them. If Death Eaters attack, it'll probably be two of them, they'll kill us, and free the prisoners and they'll go back for their wands. Our only realistic way of surviving a pair of Death Eaters is not being here, and we can't lose the prisoners."

"We'll be prisoners if we did that, Boris!" a girl objected. "He'll be back or them, he'll remember he left them with us, and if we're still alive, and they're dead, they'll know it wasn't a Death Eater."

"Why not go alone? We are willing to take the risk," the boy from earlier argued calmly. "If they have ties to the Death Eaters, they have valuable information."

"Fine, then. I'll see if I can get everyone else moving."

His voice sounded like the one casting all of the explosion charms, though his name, Boris, was hard to place. Hermione knew better than to regret not learning all the names of the Hufflepuffs; it would not even be useful under her current circumstances. _He might be a year or so older than we are._

" _Petrificus Totalus,"_ the boy incanted, hitting the girl in the back as she turned. "I am sorry for the delay. _Rennervate._ " Terry's groans could be heard. Their rescuer used a 'finite' on Hermione.

"Umm..." Terry started. "What happened?" he attempted a wandless healing charm, but it seemed more complicated than that.

"My apologies. I am Cho," the bo- _Is he a boy? How deep do the changes go?_ Hermione had a vague recollection that the other Ravenclaw witch had knelt down during the fight, and it was only then she realized she must have picked up the hair that Terry severed off one of the frozen Hufflepuffs, and must have used it with one of the polyjuice sweets the twins had meant for them. _She realized we were losing when she saw the dementors. She must have cast an opaque shield to keep them from seeing what she was doing. Most likely, she would have pretended to be knocked out until the fighting was over._ It seemed like a plan that was too convenient to really work, but there was a chance that Cho had no idea it was going to result in being able to revive them, and only intended to see where they were being taken. _Well, there's that and the fact that it hasn't worked yet. We still don't have our wands._

They were all up in minutes and the Chinese witch was doing her best with healing charms, but it was slow going since no one could perform them wandlessly. Mafalda seemed to be mostly unhurt, though in her mind Hermione knew that the Slytherin witch's presence was probably going to make the Hufflepuffs think they were connected with the Death Eaters, if they did not already. She heard Parvati insist on going back for their wands.

"We can't just wander around the castle without them," Terry objected. "We should send Cho alone, since she's already disguised." Fred and George were talking quietly in the corner. _I shouldn't have expected them to fall in line with whatever we were planning. They're here to help Ron, not swear undying loyalty to Terry._

"I could go with her. We could meet up at the train-" the Gryffindor witch argued, looking around for support. "Unless we ran into the one Hufflepuff-"

"Yes, the one who said he was going back for his friends! That's where the wands are. We can't be arguing about this, we have to send her before he revives them!"

"He's right," Ron said, a hand on his head. He was reclining on a schoolbag, though Hermione could not have said how it got there. "The rest of you don't know this, but we elected him leader." Cho was out the door. "We decided that we'd be dead if we were arguing when time counted."

Everyone was silent for a moment, as if expecting their friend to return with a bundle of wands- not for the first time, she wished Hannah were present so that she could work her magic. She always seemed to understand people, even when her first three guesses were wrong. _I suppose I could make an approximation, though I should be ready to be wrong about it._ She heard the sound of Mafalda shutting the door. _Parvati could be kind of like Ron- she doesn't want to cower and wait for someone else to sort it out. She wants the chance to face her fears._ It seemed unlikely, though, that anyone else had nearly as masochistic of a sense of responsibility as Ron. _I need to talk to the twins._

"Hi," she started, close enough that they would not be heard by anyone else. "Do you have a moment?" They looked at her. "Are you interested in joining us?" _It's better than asking if they're just doing it out of guilt._

"Haven't thought about it," Fred answered honestly. "I'll let you know if I do, though that might be when we _répondez s'il vous plaît_ to your wedding invitation."

"Who knows, though, perhaps that's only just around the corner?" George speculated. "Have a dress in mind? I wager Ron could look it over." She scowled, remembering that their brother had told his mother he was totally unwilling to go to the ball over Christmas holiday when the parents were owled about it, as there were none of his friends going. Neither she nor Ron were good judges of sartorial matters, but wizarding dress robes looked terrible and there was no way around it.

"I can't believe I'm even saying this, but we need to know if we can rely on you," she continued. "You've been seen with us, whether that Auror survives tonight or otherwise."

She could not blame them for not having thought of how the following day would go. Only moments ago they were safe, they were unknown except for being harmless pranksters; they had taken a risk by following Mafalda. _I haven't even thought about what I'm going to do tomorrow. Can I even keep going to school if Crouch means to nationalize Hogwarts? Well, no, I'll be under arrest, but even if we escape and change our identities, what will happen? Will it be more of a risk to keep going than not go at all? We'll still have the room..._

"What do you do, anyway?" George asked. "Is it a kissing club? I'm afraid I can't join if it's that. I promised at least ten witches my lips were for them alone."

"Too true, brother. Perhaps we would be better off founding our own."

_Well, at least the first one asked a legitimate question, if he had a silly way of doing it._

"We fight for justice," she said, before realizing it sounded trite and childish. Surprisingly neither so much as chuckled. "I mean, there's justice, rights, generally doing the right thing, the best thing in the long run versus..."

"We have to move," Terry said clearly, suddenly, from across the room. He was standing near the door, and he might have just looked out of it.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Death Eaters. They'll be here in moments. They're going the other way now, but-" _He's right. Even if it were only two of them, we'd stand no chance if they just flooded the room with fire or something._ Most of them rose to his orders immediately, silently following out the door and creeping after him. _What are the Death Eaters still doing here? Why did they cast the dark mark if they wanted to blame the Ministry for the dementors?_ She wished they could have stayed in the room, but outside of using a sticking charm to stick the door every time they unlocked it, she was out of ideas. _It isn't as if Terry or I can perform a wandless sticking charm..._

"Terry!" she whispered, catching up to him. The twins seemed to have decided to look out in all directions. "You have to summon your wand."

"-and when someone sees it flying out of Cho's hands-" he started back.

"We don't have a choice!" she whispered back. "Please!"

She watched the others follow them to the stairs quietly as he raised his hand with his eyes closed. The Death Eaters were heading in their directions. _They'll see us in seconds. Will they think Mafalda is one of them?_

"Mafalda!" she whispered. "We're with you, okay?" _They'll never believe we're her prisoners._ "Please, if there's anything you can tell them-"

"You there!" Hermione recognized the voice. It was one of the wizards who had taken her prisoner years ago. "What are the... seven of you doing in the castle? Have you seen any Aurors?"

"They're... well, they're undercover agents working for the blood purists," the Slytherin witch started. "They even came to rescue me when the... Hufflepuff conspirators took me prisoner."

"Why would they do that?" Gibbon asked, a bit of a chuckle on his lips. "I don't recognize you, so you can't be some lord's daughter. Selwyn?" The other wizard shook his head as Terry's wand finally snapped to his hand.

"What seems more likely is that she is a traitor. She might have known about our operation and decided to tell someone to save herself from the consequences." The dark-haired wizard worked his way to the front as they spoke.

"You don't have any reason to kill us," Ron argued. "You don't even know who we are."

"On the contrary," Selwyn said, his voice entirely neutral. "You and your friends essentially killed Dolores Umbridge, delaying our plans slightly, then you drew attention to yourselves by defending Flora Carrow. A blood purist would have allowed her to go to Durmstrang and left it at that."

"Well, how do you know?!"

"There was a _Prophet_ article," Gibbon answered, not having moved from the landing below. "Headline was 'Hogwarts students defend blood purist accused of murder'. You'd have to be the worst dark wizards in the world if you didn't predict what that would do to the narrative."

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Terry shouted, trying and failing to cast the killing curse.

" _Carpe Retractum!_ "

An orange thunderbolt erupted from Gibbon's wand immediately after an ice shield appeared in front of Selwyn. The spell seized the Ravenclaw wizard around the chest and dragged him toward the Death Eaters in the space of a second. Gibbon's wand was to the back of his neck.

"Can't fault you for trying, I suppose," the younger of the dark wizards muttered. "Need to get that fear out of your eyes before you can manage anything like that, though." He looked up at the rest of them. _He's wondering why the rest of us did not get out our wands as well._ "You had it half right; we really don't want to kill you. It's the kind of thing that would cost us the school."

Hermione bit her tongue.

"Where are you going?!" Ron demanded. _Not so loud... someone else is going to hear us..._ It seemed, though, that the others were failing to believe what they were seeing. Mafalda was crying into her back. _Stay behind me... don't watch..._

"Get my bag," Terry managed.

"Shut up!" Gibbon whispered, cursing him at point blank as the other Death Eater looked out for Aurors and loose Hufflepuffs. _There have to be more of them somewhere... what happened to them?_ "We don't want to kill him in the castle. Leave us alone, and we'll have no reason."

"Don't worry about me. Don't follow me," the Ravenclaw wizard choked. Hearing something from behind them, she glanced back to see the dementors from the seventh floor coming down the stairs. _We're cut off. The Death Eaters will kill us if we take a step forward._

"Yes! Listen to him," the dark wizard agreed, dragging him off as Selwyn applied a Disillusionment on himself. "Say your goodbyes while you can." _This can't be happening... it is happening, but can't it at least not happen so quickly?_

"You proved me wrong, Ron..." Terry said. His voice strained under the effects of an unknown curse. "Someone came..."

"Stop talking like you're dying!" the Gryffindor ordered. "We'll get you back!"

"It wasn't much, but someone came," he continued, a bizarre sort of smile on his face. _We have to run. It's like losing Hannah all over again. We can't help him- we have nowhere to go, but we have to run..._ Hermione stood stock-still as her overworked mind tried to come up with something.

"The other Hufflepuffs are moving in a group," Parvati whispered. "When they realized they were getting picked off, it was what made the most sense..." _I'll have to give her a medal someday, being able to think in a time like this..._

"I've never been so happy to be wrong," the Ravenclaw wizard concluded. The Death Eaters were reaching the end of the corridor. Selwyn must have decided to apply the same charm to his partner, because he disappeared.

"TERRY!" Ron's brothers were holding him back.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A silver hound pattered through the air as the dark wizards disappeared with him. _How do they get out? Do they have portkeys?_ She struck her own head as the patronus reached them and she heard the sound of marching feet. _I can't be thinking of this now._

"Up the stairs-" she managed, hoping Fred and George could drag Ron away. _We still don't have their wands, but we can't get them unless we go upstairs. It made sense to rely on Cho, but she hasn't come back._ "Please."

As Parvati essentially led the way, she realized there was a tear on her face. _Why now? Why not before?_

"Through the dementors, please," she whispered to the patronus. _It's the only chance we have- they'll be on us in seconds._

"There they are!" a voice shouted from the corridor. Ducking spellfire and pressing onward, forcing their feet to flee the peril into which Terry was being dragged, they stayed as close as seven could to a single silver dog as it divided the wraiths with its baying.

Hermione attempted to summon her wand, but either she was insufficiently skilled or someone was holding it. _If it's Cho, we're in the clear... but she could also be dead. That conspirator's more likely to explode the whole castle than talk things over with her if he finds out who she is._

The dementors behind them were blocking most of the spells coming at them, but they changed targets quickly.

"Let's hope none of them can produce a patronus," Ron muttered darkly as he ran. It appeared the Auror had only taken them down as far as the fifth floor before deciding to store them in a classroom. One of the twins slung some kind of toy explosive at the crowd as a distraction. _That wouldn't have worked against the Death Eaters._

As she understood it, they hardly involved themselves with combat, but not for lack of skill. They ranged from relatively skilled duelists to masters, and their jealously guarded secrets of ancient magic made them an unpredictable force. The average Auror would probably be a match for the average Death Eater, but no one else would. Even the teachers at Hogwarts understood magic from a more academic, theoretical perspective, and did not necessarily have extensive dueling experience. _How do we get out? There have to be at least a hundred brooms in the air-_

An explosion could be heard coming from far below them, much further down than their pursuers.

"What?" Ron asked, his breath flagging. "I thought that fucker was... above us?" _I don't know, Ron, I don't know. It could be someone else._

They reached the seventh floor and the unconscious Hufflepuffs were gone, along with their wands. Expletives came out; she ignored them as she tried to summon her wand again.

_We sent Cho to her death._

"Terry said something about needing his bag," Ron muttered, opening the door to the mysterious room. He picked up a broom on his way in. "It has to be how we're getting him out of wherever they're taking him. Tell the others to get more brooms."

"Ron, the patronus is gone," Fred said. "We have to at least remotely consider the possibility."

"He was a brave young basset hound," George added. "There's something important in that bag, and you're going to need it."

Ron scowled, mounting the broomstick and throwing the bag over his shoulder.

"We're not leaving Cho behind," he decided as his expression faded. "If she's still alive, she's going to the train. I can't tell you how we're getting there, but that's where we're going."


	41. An Old Friend

Neville and Goyle were alone at the Greenhouse, a tertiary entrance to the castle. Students were really supposed to go through the main doors, but it made little sense not to have a door connecting the glass gardens and the school's grounds. Despite being entirely transparent, the Herbology classroom was just as secured as the rest of the castle. _It's not the stone that makes the walls strong, it's the enchantments. Well, that and the warding._

As he had learned, even the soil was magical, and Helga Hufflepuff had understood the benefits of magical soil in the prevention of undermining. Wards beneath the surface were strengthened by the magic seeping into the earth, making subterranean invasion nearly impossible. Magical soil allowed for magical plants to grow, and the plants would die and decay into fertilizer for more soil. The Forbidden Forest could theoretically be used by a clever wandmaker, but he had no idea whether or not that was taking place.

"What are we doing here, Longbottom?"

"I don't remember. I know we need to do something to get our friends out." Goyle sighed at this explanation.

"They're your friends. They were useful to us in first year, now they're not. Malfoy says they're a 'hindrance'. Everyone else agrees."

"I do remember one thing from first year, apart from some conversation about magical wand wood," Neville started back, entering the school proper as he passed his wand over one of his own plants, having neglected to water it. "We were talking about the other Hufflepuffs, including Ernie, the one who was a bit interested in wandlore. You asked me 'what if you're right, and they're wrong', or something like that."

"That was about the conspirators," Goyle muttered, following. "We didn't even know what they were called."

"Officially, they're not called anything, they're just Hufflepuffs and they don't recognize the existence of any Hufflepuff who doesn't join them. They don't even like the word join; you're either on their side or you're not."

"They wouldn't have let you in even if you had nothing to do with us," Goyle muttered. A wizard their age was running toward them. _His name might have been Hopkins. He looks like a Hopkins._

"They know I'm a pure blood, so I would have had to work harder for it, but they'd have gotten over that, at least I think they would." He thought for a moment. "Hopkins, you're a pure blood, right?" he called.

"Why...?" the breathless student managed, hands on his knees. "Introducing me... to your purist friends...?" If there was any venom in his voice, it was easily masked by exhaustion. Neville had some idea this particular conspirator was really only a coward looking to be on the winning side. He cared nothing at all for the ideals at stake.

"No, we're just wondering if they accept pure bloods or if they're still suspicious of you." he answered.

"We'd never be suspicious of you," Goyle offered. "Being a pure blood gives you a stake in the future of the magical world." he explained, recycling a line from Malfoy. "There are exceptions, like the Weasleys, but we would at least hear them out if they offered to join."

_I wonder if he's lying. I can't ever tell._

"I don't want anything to do with you anyway." Hopkins muttered, catching his breath. "At least eight students in ten are really in support of us."

"Who told you that?" the Slytherin asked.

"It's not important," Neville interrupted. "What's going on in here?"

"They attacked us. We were only trying to help the Auror, and they attacked us- more of them than we expected. I've been trying to see how the others got in, because I thought we had every entrance covered. "

"What happened to them?"

"I left them with Justin and Boris's sister. If someone kills them it's no skin off my nose. They wouldn't come with me. I had to run to the seventh floor myself to get some sense of protection against Death Eaters, and as I was removing curses, Justin shows up, which was odd as I thought he meant to guard the prisoners."

"The seventh floor was where you had to fight them?"

"Yeah. Might be they figured it was the last place we'd expect, but Ernie disappeared after we sent him that way." The Longbottom heir frowned to himself. Over the past week or so, the first-years they had tasked to scouting told them it seemed like the enemy secret base was on the seventh floor. "Anyway, he told me he needed the prisoner's wands. Said the Department wanted to use the prior enchantments trick."

_I don't really need to recover their wands. If the worst comes to it and we don't get them back, I'm sure Gran would be happy to buy new._

"Where did you put the prisoners?"

"Fifth floor. It was Justin's idea, sort of. I don't know what's gotten into him; it's the most he's spoken in weeks. What was really weird, though, was he just kind of got up after the battle. I couldn't see when he got knocked out, so I suppose it didn't stand out to me at the time. I could hardly focus on anything except taking them down." _Well, with you that probably involved way too much force.  
_

"We'll be happy to help watch them," Goyle offered.

"Like I'd leave them to you."

"You might as well have, not guarding them yourself," Neville argued, walking off after the other wizard. _I really hope he's going for the stairs._

"Did I hear an explosion earlier?" the Slytherin asked.

"Well, I figured the only way they could have gotten in was through the Chamber. I decided to go ahead and seal off their escape."

_He's been running himself to the ground._

It took the three of them little enough time to get to the fifth floor, but the prisoners were not there, as perhaps they might have expected. As the Longbottom heir led the way, the other two had been talking behind him, their distaste for each other perfectly transparent. Somewhere in there Hopkins mentioned that what he meant by 'sealing off the escape' had been sealing off the Chamber entirely. Goyle had been less than concerned about the prisoners he was condemning to starvation, since they were regular criminals, but he had been at least interested in the effect a blasting curse in the lower levels would have on the structural integrity of the castle. He admitted to using the same spell on the ceiling earlier to get around the enemy's shields, and was surprised that it actually worked.

 _If I had Hannah's imagination, I still wouldn't know why the spell was so effective, but at least I'd have a guess._ From what little he actually knew, it seemed the earth around the castle had grown more magical over time, though that could be attributed to a variety of causes. _I need to focus on what I can do, not on everything else._

"So if they got out, where did they go?" Neville asked. "Would they try to get out of the school?"

"They're not my problem," Hopkins defended. "I don't know how they'd get out without some kind of distraction. The Aurors are watching this place from every angle, if they're not dealing with Death Eaters." _A distraction... we can manage that._

"You know what, I agree," he said at length. "We shouldn't be worried about where they ended up, not with Aurors and Death Eaters running about." The Slytherin appeared grateful enough at the decision he voiced. "Now that I think on it, the three of us might be the least qualified of all to handle this sort of thing, at least in our year."

"What of it?"

"Well, where do you think the Death Eaters are likely to be?"

"They'll know about the prisoners down in the Chamber," Hopkins speculated. "It was in the _Prophet._ Why don't you ask your friend?"

"It's not like they tell me anything," Goyle muttered. "Are we going down there?"

"We're going down there before the Death Eaters get there. We need to collapse more of the girls' toilet to make it harder for them to find the entrance."

"Your blood purist friends would never allow you to do something that might inconvenience their parents," the other Hufflepuff argued.

"Well, say the Aurors start losing- unleashing the prisoners might be the distraction they need," he offered. "This way, no one gets to go down there and release them, and no one has any secret ways to escape. Everyone wins. Well, maybe everyone loses."

If the plan convinced either one of them, neither of them showed it. More than anything, they both looked like each would sooner see what was going on than leave the other alone.

_The Chamber isn't a real way out. It's almost entirely sealed on the other side. I can't remember if trying to go through there will set off the warding, but I'd rather not find out._

It occurred to him that he would be burying the prisoners, further reducing their chances of survival, but he could think of no other way of causing a distraction that would not clue in either of his companions. _Goyle would be happy to have them taken prisoner- he's probably the least interested in having a third side out of anyone._

As soon as they reached the second floor toilet, however, the three of them were stopped by a pair of elves who looked to be cleaning up wreckage with magic.

"What are you doing?" Hopkins asked, somewhat upset that they were ruining his work.

"We must serve the school, see, we can't allow it, no, not at all..." one of them started. _What was her name again?_ The other one was easier to remember. He was called Twelvsies for his unusual number of toes, though he never spoke for some reason.

"Well, put it back straight away." Goyle ordered. "We're trying to protect the school."

The servants did not respond.

"Forget the school, we're trying to put Death Eaters out of potential help." the Hufflepuff wizard explained, with the same success.

"They can't just listen to any given student." Neville said. "They think of themselves as agents of the school." _He actually might not know how elvish servitude works. I've probably forgotten more times than he's heard._

"Well, that's not helping anyone at the moment." Hopkins muttered angrily, taking out his wand. The house-elf vanished rather than enter a confrontation. _That's right.. they can apparate inside of Hogwarts!_

"Don't hex them. They're expensive." Goyle ordered.

"I'm not listening to blood purists like you." The blood purist took out his wand.

"There's no need- what does this have to do with-" the Longbottom heir started weakly. _Wait- this might be my chance._ "Twelve!" he called out, not seeing the elf anywhere. "If you're still listening to us, get away. We don't need your help here, but another group of students might."

He had thought his words were transparent even as he spoke them, but his companions were focused more on deflecting curses and shielding. Three explosions hit the walls by the time he was sure the house-elves were gone. He stood there staring as the two wizards fought, not knowing which to help. _Goyle would have helped me, but only because I'm a pure blood._

Neville reminded himself that the distraction had been his first plan. _I can't get distracted myself. It'll probably be the Aurors that swarm their position- I haven't seen any Death Eaters in here, and I have to be suspicious when the Aurors are saying there are Death Eaters._ Acting as if he meant to chase the servants and shouting something ambiguous, he remembered the enchanted boxes he had pocketed after figuring out how to shrink them back down, after releasing Malfoy and his friends. He had an idea of smuggling his friends out of the school, but it seemed unlikely he would find them, if they were even still in the castle. By contrast, he would have no difficulty at all finding some of the projects he had going down in the greenhouses, and he was not too far from them, with such a large castle to be considered. _If Crouch's people take over the school, I'll be one of the first to get kicked out. I need to take what I can with me and start thinking about my next move. Well, that's what my father would do. I'll probably end up forgetting something and asking Gran for help._

He had invited his friends to the manor at the beginning of the year, and he found the specifics general to place, but his grandmother at least seemed to remember the previous war and the escalation of tensions. However quickly or slowly it went, the path to war seemed to be following some of the same patterns as last time. _If one thing's certain, people will be saying we could have predicted the final few steps before wands are drawn, but that's not how it works._ In History of Magic he had to compensate for a poor memory with note taking and using wards to cheat, by one definition or another, but if he had learned anything, it was never so simple as people thought.

"I'll need these," he said to himself as he levitated a breeding pair of Tentacula into the chest, soil and all. "I don't know why, but this might come in useful." He had a Tanzanian Singing Tongue in an enchanted pot, touching a hand to his Remembrall before remembering that it needed a natural light charm. " _Lux Africana._ Damn, now I need more tropical plants for that chest."

Deciding he was almost having too much fun setting them in order, he squared the rest of his projects away while having the least fun possible. _Can't be up to anything like that, not when I haven't a clue where my friends are._

Being honest with himself, which came naturally with low self-esteem, he knew not who his friends were, their locations notwithstanding. It was annoying, to be sure, but he still wanted to stick with the philosophy of being friends with everyone he liked, assuming they liked him. Hestia bothered him about it more than Malfoy or any of the conspirators, perhaps out of something like genuine concern, but she did not seem to understand him in the first place.

_She was supposed to be teaching me all sorts of things, but I couldn't get her off combative magic for more than an hour. It felt like I had to justify learning things I really wanted to learn._

As he finished getting his things together and shrinking the boxes again, he remembered not a specific point, but a general time frame when she gave up arguing that his life was on the line and there were some things he just had to learn. It seemed the argument did not motivate him, so there was no point to making it. He had this vaguely negative feeling about making everyone else care about him, when he cared little about himself, but he could hardly see a way around it. His entire life, short though it might have been on any sort of scale, he had dealt with a lack of confidence that built upon itself by never putting himself in situations where he could develop anything resembling self-esteem, or at least that was what he had pieced together from Hestia's thinly veiled insults. At some level, like an academic, idealized understanding, someone with a lack of confidence was a normal person with a problem, whatever his character might be. In what he called the real world, however, it was an insult. The word 'delusional' was an insult; it was something you could directly or near enough attribute to a weakness of character. The language of terms gave people the opportunity to act like they were speaking an objective fact, when really it was an opinion, an uninformed one, and a deliberate attempt to hurt that could easily be justified as helping.

To make matters worse, the term 'delusion' only applied to unpopular beliefs. If he said that Merlin put a sword in a stone for a Squib named Arthur to pull out, that would basically be fine- some would think less of him, as it was apocryphal, but it was something people had been saying for centuries. If, however, he stated some cultist belief that Squibs could gain magical ability through enchanted artefacts, he would be institutionalized, or at least the academics would think that he should be.

_I have to be confident that Hermione and the others can get out. There's probably nothing more I can do for them._

It was a distracting experience, and a painful one, to trust in his friends, but it was something he learned from Malfoy of all people. As far as Neville knew, he had never once lied to his closest associates. Others he drew into his circle for their abilities, but he knew they had their own agendas, while Crabbe and Goyle would maintain their fealty forever. _It's better to have them on your side than no one, and he knows there will come yet another day when loyalties are tested in Slytherin House. That's what he said, anyway, or most of it._

Going back outside to see where Hannah had been taken, he had some idea Goyle would probably win against Hopkins and rejoin him or Malfoy, but his failure to do so thus far was moderately concerning. _Hannah's in more trouble than he is._ _At the very least I need to see where she's going, since they can't take her to Azkaban._ He knew he could not promise her he would get her out of it, but it would be a start.

The situation outside had the appearance of being under control, with Aurors flying everywhere now, but that usually indicated a lack of control leading up to their current point. _I suppose that's what they were complaining about, after all. They wanted control, now they have it._

His grandmother had been speaking with people from a few different magical societies and it was a wonder how no one saw the loss of Hogwarts coming. People voted, to be sure, but the only way of getting them to pay wizarding taxes was by continually increasing the perception of the Death Eater menace. Unlike muggle governments, which Hermione had explained to him at least thrice, the Ministry provided basically no services; witches and wizards had no need for people to put out fires or build roads. All they had was Azkaban, which was really funded about as cheaply as possible and filled up quickly, resulting in people getting out of prison time, which gave the Hit Wizards a regular job to do catching them all over again. Regulatory offices were even better about making work for themselves, but they employed a subtler sense of fear-mongering.

Talking to the Aurors yielded little information. Enough of them could easily take out a fully transformed werewolf, it went without saying Hannah presented no particular challenge. He tried to make small talk about prisoners and where to put them, acting the unsuspecting Hufflepuff, but they deflected his questions. At long last they said the prisoner was ultimately up to the Department's discretion, though it was possible vacant parts of Hogwarts would be used. _That's perfect- they can't trap her here, only we know the ins and outs of this place- it'll be just like Umbridge, we'll get rid of anyone they send before the year's out._

As he started to formulate plans, deciding he need to write them somewhere, he heard a few of the Aurors who were still standing around start talking in hushed tones. _What are they saying?_ They made signals of some sort to the Aurors flying overhead and around the castle as they marched to the castle, spread out to avoid being taken out in a few spells. _Is it the Death Eaters? What are they doing?_

It was only then that he realized he had been stunned, and if there were any point to his returning to the castle, he would not discover what it was.


	42. From a Castle to a Memory

A few of Draco's vassals were at his side when they found Longbottom staring at the school.

"He's been stunned- Nott."

The other Slytherin quietly cast a reviving charm, and Neville drew breath as if he had been holding it.

"Malfoy, thank goodness- we've got to get back to the school, the Aurors just got wind of something in there-"

"Are there Death Eaters in the castle?" he asked, interrupting.

"Everyone inside seems to think there are. I haven't seen any," he answered, checking his infernal Remembrall. _If the Death Eaters are inside, we have a chance. They need only hide until everything dies down and kill the new authority when the opportunity presents itself. Then we'll have everyone's children._ That he had not heard of the plan, however, concerned him. It seemed likely that his falling out of favor with them resulted in their concealment of relevant details, lest he ruin their chances. _Even my own father said nothing of it._

"No school under the Ministry is worth the taking," Nott muttered, following all the same. Tracey had an icy glare.

"If they fail to take it, we shall have the most valuable seat of power in the world."

"There is little any of us can do against a host of Aurors," Malfoy responded. "A successful capture would depend on the force the Death Eaters have brought." _I would have some idea of it had they deigned to tell me._

They left Neville behind as they approached the school. His involvement would not help them any more than Crabbe's, and they needed him in the school in the likely event that the Ministry would seize the school. _What eludes me is how they're insuring it won't be a repeat of Umbridge- though they can't be the wisest, as they are not blood purists, they should not be any more inclined to throw lives away than we are._

He remembered allowing Goyle to leave with Neville, meaning he was most likely in the school or around it. He felt a chill as the four of them reached the main doors.

"Looks like they weren't lying about the dementors, but they had to have been lying about Crouch," Crabbe muttered.

"You needn't trip the rest of us with your blundering," Nott said, casting a muffling charm as Draco put up an illusion. _I'll have to thank Padma- but first we'll have to remain unseen. No one explicitly told us not to go to the castle, but that excuse will run out soon._ "Why would they lie about both? They must have been mistaken- but had they only a cursory look, they would not have stood by the statement."

"It was someone else with polyjuice then, in case they were seen," Davis decided. "We have more important-"

"My father told me Crouch has a son," the Malfoy heir said, trying to focus on the Aurors apprehending the dementors. It was almost like the wraiths were guarding the way in. "He fought with us on the last war, and made the old bastard break his own kill on sight policy. More of a Dark Lord loyalist than a blood purist, and to so much as read the descriptions of the corpses he left behind, he was violently unstable."

He hoped the explanation would set the proper mood, even among Nott and Davis, both of whom he knew to admire the Lord Voldemort more than was advisable. The latter scowled. _They did, after all, call all the Death Eaters mentally unstable. Fitting, that the insane should find the last sane men and say they are mad for not being the same._

The dementor was only chased away, but there was nowhere the Aurors could have put it. _Secrecy is a hair's breadth away from being destroyed. These particular wizards are no more responsible than the Dark Lord, for destroying Azkaban, but their contribution to the loss of our world will be remembered._ Where he had expected they would leave the school after banishing the wraith, they entered.

" _Stupefy._ " Draco knocked out the last one to scan the area as the rest entered.

"Do you mind explaining?" Davis asked.

"We don't want them to know who did it. Otherwise I would have killed him." He made a motion to follow, which all but Crabbe obliged haltingly. "Hit them in the backs and the Death Eaters will have an easier time."

Counter to his expectations, the Aurors were back outside, scanning in all directions as one of them revived the fallen one. _Damn. Someone counted to make sure they all made it inside._

"We should retreat," Nott suggested. "It's as well that they're out of the battle looking for us."

The Malfoy heir kept his scowl to himself. The Aurors were better trained than to be intentionally led away, and more logical than to allow one stunner from a distance to deter them from their mission when the problem was easily remedied. _Even if they correctly assumed we were initially trying to attack them, we would have to make a better effort to bother them._

As he silently predicted, the red robed wizards were not interested in chasing them.

"It could be the dementors- or it could be the Death Eaters, but they have other concerns," he summarized quietly. _We can't pick them off, we can't even slow them down by any measure._ "We shall follow them." _At the very least, we shall know what has become of the school._

He was aware the school was no longer his own, but he had reasonably held out hope the blood purists could take hold of it. Though it had been Snape who had expelled him, if for no other reason than to quiet the school governors, a proper administration would see him to the education his birth merited. _I shall have to merit it myself at Durmstrang- no matter. My past failures will be unknown._

It appeared that the Aurors were not going to split up again, but they were staying far enough apart to avoid being caught in any kind of spell that would take them all out at once. _The killing curse is only effective on a single target because of a brief connection between the souls of caster and victim. Fire spells, however, have a better chance under these circumstances. Four wands with standard fire charms are better for a small area than four killing curses any day of the week._

The unmistakable sound of an explosion rang out. _Goyle wouldn't be so reckless._

No one asked what was going on; there were no answers to be had. It was uncertain who had cast the spell and why. They had to follow the red-robed wizards slowly, maintaining the illusions and recasting them where necessary. It was nowhere near as good as an invisibility cloak, but it was a sight better than the Peruvian Darkness Powder that Nott had been using the previous year.

The explosion was followed by several more, at least three, though they were getting louder, making it hard to tell when one ended and the next began. _Never mind, Goyle's at least involved. The Death Eaters would have ended things more swiftly._

The four of them followed their targets to what seemed a battle from the pages of history. Draco coughed as smoke reached his throat. _Explosions can get around shield charms with the debris- clever bastard._ Immediately the Auror in the lead cleared the smoke with a single spell, revealing Goyle and a Hufflepuff of some sort with shields up. Both had a few stunners sent at them from different wands, but the Slytherin was unlucky enough to be hit, while his opponent fled after two spells bounced off his shield. _Damn. I might be deprived of a loyal servant._ An explosion went off at their feet, though it was difficult to say who cast it- as three of the siz Aurors were knocked off their feet, Draco drew.

"Quickly!" he shouted, hitting one of them with a stunner as Nott put an ice charm on the ground. Crabbe might have been putting one to sleep or disarming- the killing curse was a challenge to learn and none of them could claim to have mastered it. _That fleeing Hufflepuff might have used the explosion to cover his tracks._ Draco hit another Auror as Tracey was forced to dodge a retaliatory curse, and the four of them had the numbers advantage, if nothing else. _The illusion is unlikely to be effective with all the dust in the air- why didn't I think of it?!_ He felt his wand fly out of his hand and jumped in the way of a body-bind curse as Nott took out its caster. The amulet he was wearing took effect soon after he hit the ground, and he grabbed a stray wand, rolled over and managed to deflect some sort of jinx as Crabbe finished with the few that were on the ground before being stunned. Only one Auror stood, but he cast a massive explosion charm at the feet of Nott and Davis with a snarl. _He must have not seen me-_ Draco hit him in the back with a stunner as he stunned Nott. Tracey coughed.

"Can you produce a killing curse?"

"It takes practice. I haven't had time yet."

More than anything though, the truth was he had no hatred for the red-robed wizards- their masters, to be sure, but the men themselves were runes in a great ward. It made more sense to think of them as the wand arm of the Ministry, or part of it, and the arm had no will of its own. They would suffer appropriate consequences for the regime they supported, but the venom was reasonably reserved for the Department and the faction.

At the same time, he had no moralistic objection to executing them, even when they were lying on the ground. Davis was already hitting Nott with a counter charm, though there might have been some other reason she was avoiding Draco's eyes. He elected not to waste time and woke Goyle, then Crabbe.

When they were all standing, they stared at the Aurors, either petrified or stunned.

"Fire charms- it'll go faster if we all do it."

"Shouldn't we question them?" Tracey asked suddenly. "Or- better, does anyone know the Imperius Curse?"

"No," Draco said softly. He needed not explain that no one was a master of the curse and little information could be gained from trained wizards whose minds were almost certainly occluded, actively and while they slept. The simple fact of it was that it was time to stop being children, and incinerate what would only be a threat to them later. All Tracey needed was for him to give the order.

They stood at a safe distance and burned, hearing occasional explosions in the background. _The little bastard must still be trying to lose his pursuers- maybe cut them off entirely._ The more he thought about it, the targets they should interrogate with Legilimency were the Hufflepuffs- untrained with Occlumency, but they had to know more than the Department really wanted them to know. _September next will see the beginning of the wars of the mind. We shall have to leave as many at Hogwarts as we can- Parkinson, Creevey- we have to have something on a dozen Slytherins... we have to control them with memory charms and teach them how to protect themselves._

In the middle of his planning, he noticed the Aurors were destroyed past all possible recognition. It was not enough to burn them a little; they had to be killed, and he knew it was easier for his people to stand there holding wands and maintaining spells when everyone else was doing it than to stop and see if they were dead.

"That's enough," he decided. "The goal is not to reduce them to ashes. Let the Ministry find that their servants are dead, and let them hem and haw over whether it should go in the _Prophet_ or not. We should be going after the Hufflepuff, though not with the direct route." They set about getting out of the school, since their target would either get out and run for it or block their path, meaning the quickest route would take them outside. It might have been odd to him a year ago, that they could all unconsciously navigate the castle, but it was the product of years of experience, and the same could be said of all the students before, as it would be said of all the students after.

He could faintly hear the explosions outside as he ran, wishing he had thought to bring his broomstick, and the scene oddly reminded him of chasing the mudblood in first year, when he had no idea of her blood status, only a reasonable suspicion. In his mind he could still see the great roar of flame from five wands, it was as if the light had damaged his eyes. The doors to the Entrance Hall opened as soon as they reached them, and the wizard behind them was ready with an explosion, forcing them all backward as he ran.

Covered in the loose earth, Draco stirred, grabbing his wand with a few blades of grass. _Damn- it feels like I've broken something._ His racing mind managed to reason that their target was not waiting for them specifically, but expected someone on the other side of the door, which was why he said the incantation for an explosion just as he heard footsteps or anything else. Uncaring if anyone else followed him, he attempted a killing curse, but if he managed the spell it missed. Forcing himself back into a run, he found Goyle flanking him. The heir to the Malfoy name had not the breath to give orders, but none were necessary. As his henchmen accelerated, he heard another explosion, then another- _He has to be just as fatigued as the rest of us, if not more._

The next explosion was followed by what sounded and felt like a small earthquake.

"Must've hit some kind of pillar," Goyle muttered, letting him catch up. "Managed to figure it out myself."

As they ran through the Great Hall, the gems of the House Point hourglasses were scattered across the floor. Goyle jumped to a table without missing a beat, and Draco was quick to follow. He shot sparks at an archway above one of the ways out and his henchman followed it with an explosion. _Now he knows which way we're taking to chase him, but his way is cut off._

He anticipated some worthwhile secrets coming out of the wizards mind; the real cowards always had dirt on someone for insurance. Another explosion was waiting for them, but he was ready with a shield charm. The castle shook once more. _Desperation notwithstanding, he is nearly in our hands._

As they cornered the target at the end of a ruined corridor, Draco put a shield charm directly in front of him, causing his next explosion to force him against the wall. _It would not do to let him take the easy way out. Interrogation must be better than death._

"When your little friends find you, be sure you tell them about our capabilities. We want them scared."

He started to reach out with Legilimency, but Goyle hit the Hufflepuff with a sleeping charm first.

"We need to get out of here. The whole damn thing could come down any minute."

" _Mobilicorpus._ " The target's body was fluid and easily moved through the air. As they turned to leave the corridor, the heir of House Malfoy could see where his henchmen made his assessment. All over the ceiling there were cracks; some of the arch supports were ready to come down entirely. He remembered the castle healing itself in first year, though they never learned whether it had been that, or the Lord Voldemort repairing it to cover his tracks. In either case, the walls looked to be in no condition to put themselves back together. Ward light flickered when he looked closely, making him wonder what kind of defenses had been put in place since the ancient magicks the Founders had wrought. Salazar Slytherin would have objected to his Chamber being opened and occupied by the unworthy, but his heart might have wrenched to see the school in disarray.

The three of them were outside to find their associates standing around like characters in some kind of dramatic painting, perhaps _Grim Silence in Autumn_ by Aslaug the Ancient, or even _The Incredulity of Saint Thomas_ by Caravaggio, as they were still.

To his detriment, it took him a moment to process what he was seeing, his eyes passing between them as he dropped the sleeping Hufflepuff on the ground. Nott was looking away from everyone else. He seemed to have a bruise on his head. Tracey had hastily healed her own ankle; there was blood on the ground all around her and her shoe was a few feet away. She seemed to be distressed, needlessly putting Crabbe's arms on top of him.

Crabbe was dead.

Draco froze his legs stock-still to keep himself from collapsing to his knees. He turned to Goyle, but the young man's face was hard and full of a silent rage that would burn as long as his heart would beat. Tracey seemed to notice them as the sleeping body rolled over to her.

"I'm sorry, Draco, there was nothing-" He knew. Her voice was enough. "He- well, he must have heard it or something and he put himself in front of us... my ankle snapped under him, but that's not, that's nothing, I don't care about it..."

"How did he die?" the living henchman asked.

"It might have been the explosion... it might have been the door hitting him... I'm sorry, I really couldn't tell, he was beyond hope when I had my wand in my hand- Nott, he was unconscious, but he woke up... at some point. I saw you two were gone and I told him that you were avenging him."

"That's what I needed," Goyle muttered. "More bodies to avenge."

A contingent of Aurors appeared with Crouch, who might have been the Minister already, or have some more powerful position. Draco knew why they were there.

"They went inside. We didn't see them after that." He kicked the sleeping Hufflepuff, who had since been petrified. "This one attacked us unprovoked." _I would have liked to question him, but it's more important that we have an explanation for the corpse._

Perhaps unsurprisingly, they seemed to believe four Hogwarts students had nothing to do with the disappearance of a team of Aurors, but they could see that an explosion had taken place.

"Was there a reason for the attack?" Crouch asked. The venom in his voice suggested he was thinking it was 'fighting blood purism'.

"You'll have to ask him," Nott said, turning around. "You'll also have to ask him why he thought it best to cast enough explosions in the castle to make the walls shake. You'll have to excuse us; we have someone to bury."

" _Mobilicorpus."_ Draco lifted Crabbe's static corpse after hitting it with a full-body bind.

"The four of you will be questioned extensively."

"We have family not far from here." Goyle muttered. "We're not flight risks."

They started to walk away. _We're only losing a Hufflepuff. There are more from whence he came._

"On second thought," Crouch started, looking between them and the school. "Perhaps the deaths have not yet concluded for today. With deaths there can be new beginnings, and this is the hour of beginnings as well."

"How apropos," an Auror muttered. Draco saw a sycophant, but he saw something of himself or his father at the same time. "Perhaps, even, there truly is no need to incinerate the collection of books of dark magic. Perhaps there is no need to map the cursed maze of a castle so that we can finally figure out how to get in and out. A facility we created in the Ministry would be more convenient, more modern, and safer by leagues."

"It is decided, then, what I have contemplated. Oh, Hogwarts, you stood long and raised many a dark wizard, from the teats of their mothers to the cold earth they return- I suppose this one should count himself lucky he made it to fourth year."

Draco was stunned into stillness. There were only four of them- there was no chance to be had against Crouch and an entire contingent of Aurors, even as they leveled their wands to the castle they had an eye on the ragged group of Slytherins, daring them to try something.

Were it not for the catch in his throat he might have screamed, and were it not for the curse he applied to his legs they would have failed him. So, with it all taken into account, he was the picture of strength as the school fell, as a monument to magic itself was reduced to a ruin.


	43. Interlude: Shield of the Dark

The African witch crouched next to him was quite capable in a scrape, and Charlie had little doubts of her ability to survive the next encounter. Their last, however, had left him with more questions than answers. Though they had tried approaching the raid on Goldstein's hidden fortress with caution and still failed, he was uneasy about the dark presence in Casablanca and decided research was necessary before the pair of them could begin to plan for a strike on their escaped enemy. He imagined what his father would say about spending as much time as he already had when there was no sister to recover, nothing to be gained but another corpse, but he could rationalize it with the other dark wizards. There was some reason the Death Eaters were reaching out to them, and he had to have some idea of what it was. All he had seen so far were Travers, Lestrange, and a shorter wizard trailing behind them, and he knew the first two to be perpetrators of some of the most violent crimes out of all of them. He wished he knew what that meant, but he couldn't imagine it would go well for the good people of Barbary.

Consequently, he had looked into regional developments into dark magic, and could make no more sense of it than Wahde. He had an idea of what people could do out of what he had seen, a handful of shields that had a chance of blocking dark curses, and some bizarre transfigurations that seemed less useful than horrifying, but he reminded himself that that was only what people lived to remember.

They infiltrated the building the same way as last time, knowing the wizards supposed to be there were not flying in. Charlie was aware some of the blood purists who kept track of families would recognize a Weasley on sight, and though he had not seen any of them, it was a simple matter of changing his hair to a chestnut color and donning long, blue robes his companion transfigured. _This is their first meeting. Wahde's been watching the place for weeks, and they don't all know each other._

"Who are you?" Lestrange asked after trying French. _Fair, I suppose. The Vichy Wizards were down here, if I remember correctly._ History had never been his best class.

"I am Alexandru of Wallachia." he answered, adopting the accent he heard all the time at work. "This promising young lady is a student of mine, and some might say it was coincidental she heard of this meeting, but I disagree. There is a grand order to things, no?"

He explained that she had been in contact with some of the dark wizards of the Maghreb, whom he could name, and that they had been interested in his position in the Black Sea Sorcerers. All he knew about them from work was that they were mad enough to try to become masters of the dragons, meaning none of them lived long.

Fortunately, Lestrange seemed to accept his explanation, mostly because it was inconceivable that either he or Wahde were Aurors or Unspeakables, the probability of being sent on such a mission with no reinforcements was entirely negligible. Moreover, if their treachery were revealed, the dark magic sent after them would reduce them to slime.

The meeting started with Bakr of the Draa addressing everyone from the center of the room in Arabic. Wadhe had been hearing it enough that she could understand it, which had been an essential part of the plan. He was a smaller man, and he wore a black robe over a multi-colored tunic. White runes shone brightly on his hands, but from a distance and with Charlie's limited experience, they were, of course, illegible. As he rotated to see everyone, he spoke with a clarity and conviction that told of years of experience in war and advanced magic. The African witch next to him explained that the Magicians of Light were testing his patience with the expansion of their control of North Africa from their home in Egypt, and his sentiment was met with universal agreement. 'Alexandru' kept his eyes out for Said, who would most likely serve as Goldstein's contact, but to his surprise he saw the Brit he suspected as a dark wizard weeks ago. _He ran rather than attacking us- did he assume we were allies of his? Why?_

Inching closer and forcing Wadhe to follow him, he saw a man who carried himself differently than expected. There was none of the wear and tear he had seen in the other wizard, and the man looked a little different in general, less than would serve as a disguise, obviously, but enough that he was already concluding that they must really be different wizards.

"It's nothing," he muttered, though the witch in his company kept her eyes on the speaker. _Smart._ "He's someone else." _Well, he might be someone else, but it's not nothing._

The next dignitary to speak was the Pasha Karamanli from Tripolitania, calling for a decisive, united front against the order of the same enemies, the better to secede the Maghreb from their control. He warned the other wizards about foreigners in their midst who would drag them to other conflicts. He explained that the foreigners never paid their debts, and were not to be trusted.

"What's he mean by that?"

"He runs a racket," Wadhe answered quickly.

The meeting continued and there was, as expected, no mention of a runaway Hogwarts student, but at long last Travers had a chance to speak. He was bloodthirsty, Charlie knew, but as he thought about it the rest of them were no different. The dignified way he spoke his Arabic was almost wasted; having killed innocent people would never have counted against him. _Said. We have to focus on finding Said._

"If I may," he started, as Travers concluded his address. According to Wadhe, his speech was oddly absent of anything related to helping Voldemort, only of unity and joint strength in times of war. "What of the Egyptians in this very room?"

It seemed a few of the dark wizards understood his words, or at least the way he looked around.

"The point of all of our words, words where there should be action- is unity across all lands, that dark magic unites us in strength-" Travers started back, quickly repeating himself in Arabic. It appeared the first speaker and a few of his friends disagreed, however. _They came here to exchange secrets, not fight in each other's wars. If talk of unity amounts to more than generally good relations, they're against it._

"Bakr of the Draa is saying we should find them. Egypt is the North, but it is not the Barbary Coast." the witch next to him explained. "He is saying we should let them speak and have their loyalties made clear."

_That makes sense. Dark Wizards from Egypt would not want their country torn to shreds in the effort to rid Africa of the Magicians of Light. From what Bill says about them, they take their culture seriously, and have a small magical school in Giza. It stands to reason that they might even warn their enemies that the dark wizards of the Maghreb are plotting against them._

It appeared it was time for Said to speak. Charlie's eyes narrowed. _We can't just follow him out of here- he can always disapparate. Even with Wahde's disguise, he would be suspicious of us._ The witch wore a thin white dress and veil more typical of the North, which had been easy enough to transfigure. The Egyptian's words mostly took an insulted tone, and there was no need for translation. He had, after all, come all this way to attend a meeting and share his knowledge, and now they were suspecting him. 'Alexandru' wondered what exactly he had to share, since he could not have been much older than seventeen, but that had been the reason Wadhe suspected he had for going to Uagadou in the first place.

Said told of a dark shield in which he had made a few developments with the shape-changing magic he learned at school with the reasonable hope that it would counteract some of the unpredictability in dark magic, but what was surprising came after that. He explained that their enemies in Egypt essentially aligned themselves with the International Confederation of Wizards, as well as the majority of Ministries in the world. They were known for communicating with British and the French most notably, and he had no love for either people whatsoever.

If he had hoped to make that his whole speech, he was disappointed when someone asked about anyone he knew to be at odds with any of them, since he knew so much about the Magicians of Light and their enemies. _He's got no way out, really. I reckon if he said he didn't know anything about them, everyone would have thought he was protecting them._ The Egyptian sighed and explained that he knew of a young wizard who recently escaped Hogwarts, pursued as an enemy by those who aligned themselves against the Death Eaters, though mostly for personal reasons. He knew little else about them, but the young wizard himself contended that he had been hounded by the servants of Voldemort, that they had killed his mother in front of him and captured his father, taking him away in a prison of his own design.

All eyes were on Travers and Lestrange, the other man appearing to have escaped general notice.

The Pasha Karamanli tried to speak at the same time as someone of his party, a witch in yellow with a wooden bowl that must have contained something glowing, as it was the only way he could see her face under the large, flat headdress she wore. She carried an ivory mask of her own face at her hip. They glared for a moment before the witch was allowed to voice her question first.

"What of the wizard?" she asked. "Why should we care about what happened to him?"

Wadhe muttered that she suspected the speaker was from Benin, a kingdom that had been intimately familiar with the slave trade.

"Well, there's no reason to hold it against her specifically." Charlie muttered back. _It's understood that if anything, we should be more concerned with her being a dark witch._

Said had chosen to answer the question in Arabic, meaning another translation was required. Essentially, he was interested in dark magic, and apparently practiced in a form of soul magic that gave him mastery over any other individual, assuming he could put the enchantment on him or her. He showed promise for his age, a learned prodigy as far as necessity would carry him, but, to have peace with the Death Eaters and the everyone else in the room, the Egyptian was willing to sacrifice him. 'Alexandru' turned to suppress his scowl.

"What?" Wadhe asked. "This is what we-"

"It figures, doesn't it? That's how you know who the bad blokes are- they turn on each other at a moment's notice."

Some level of comprehension was passing through the witch.

"I would never-"

"You were going to kill him the moment you saw him. So was I- it was all about revenge, not anyone that was any kind of threat to us." He gestured about, casting a muffling charm. Fortunately the discussion would have masked their words if nothing else. "Now we've surrounded ourselves with threats, and it was just to kill a runaway- what is he, fourth-year now? He belongs in the ground, sure, but what about everyone else?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Just because you've spent a long time making a mistake doesn't mean you need to keep making it. He should never have involved my sister and definitely not your brother, but there wasn't a damn thing wrong with pitching a tent in the wild and leaving the madhouse to the mad." As he thought about it, the thing that concerned him most was that even if the boy had no qualms about his choices, he should have at least considered the risk to himself incurred by bringing everyone with him- and if Harper were connected with the Death Eaters, it was guaranteed to be the same problem again. At the very least, he should never have killed the hostage to escape, because he still had a small chance of survival. _It seems unlikely he can't connect his actions with their consequences. He probably sees people not even as assets and liabilities, but as assets and dysfunctional assets. People and things should be helping him by default, and when they're not helping him, he just finds some way to make them._

As Wahde stared at him, Said had given the floor to someone else, a wizard he could not recognize in body paint like zebra stripes and a skirt that looked oddly like a kilt. _That one'll be from Ethiopia._ When warding came to Africa, there were those who preferred illustration and patterns to written words. When eventually his comments were translated, they revealed his concern for the growing Arabic presence in the North, the fact that they were all speaking the language being a worrying sign in his regard. Various ranking voices deliberated before almost unanimously deciding that despite being a foreign influence, the Majlis of Magic had brought unity with them, if unity by force, an understandable mechanism. It was better, in any event, that old conflicts were put to rest, that they could better resolve the matters at hand. A wizard identifying himself as Kisotho Fusotho wearing a burning woolen blanket shouted that if it were not for the Arabic language, the meeting would be impossible. Charlie wondered how he had not noticed before, but decided there was never a dull moment where he might have. He quietly thanked Wadhe for her patience.

_They're not going to ask him to produce Anthony. If anything, he'll be listening out for his cue to leave; there's too much to lose and not enough to gain. He wanted to play the game with the adults like every junior Death Eater at Hogwarts, but there's too much conflicting interest on the table._

The more he thought about it, the more confusing it seemed. The dark wizards spoke to each other like they had never met before; what was all the talk of unity? They seemed to have little common ground except as some kind of illegal research group. They could not seem to come to a conclusion about anything. From what his companion could tell, Travers had asked the Egyptian nothing at all about Goldstein's location, only circumstances surrounding the death of his parents. _Were they not involved with it? How else could they not know?_

It hit him. He tapped Wahde on the shoulder.

"Listen carefully- we have to leave. We'll ask someone here to get some details out of Said, then we're out. Whatever they manage to develop or demonstrate here, it's not worth it."

They found Bakr of the Draa and promised to arrange support from the Black Sea Sorcerers against the Magicians of Light, as he attested they were causing problems for Eastern Europe through Turkey. As he was concerned about Egypt, however, he should like some information on either the Egyptian or the young wizard under his care. It seemed odd to him that he was so relevant to what they were discussing, but they knew so little about him. He was almost concerned that some strings were being pulled to protect Said from being properly questioned.

He knew the wizard would see a bribe where one was proposed, but the effective phase of the plan was the implication that someone who had arranged the meeting was protecting Egyptian interests. The dark wizard assured Charlie that under no circumstances would infiltrators survive, and explained where Said could be found. Apparently, the Egyptian had encountered a Death Eater in the Ashanti Kingdom, learned of his efforts to spread the influence of Voldemort, and invited him to the meeting as an opportunity. The anonymous wizard went to Casablanca with him and put up the gold for proper living arrangements, as the Egyptian would be inclined to provide translation services. A few days before the meeting, Bakr met the two of them at a teahouse of some sort where he picked up something about a boy a few years younger than Said.

'Alexandru' thanked the wizard and relayed that his allies had been concerned about what kind of united front he would find in the Maghreb, and he would tell them he had been pleasantly surprised. In reality, the opposite was true. He had feared some kind of massive force finding common ground and sharing secrets- the truth was, they had enough in common to be an illegal research group of some sort, but in his estimation most of the wizards in the room were murderers, warlords, or politicians. Their interests could never be held by magical study while other concerns forced themselves to the forefront. They rightfully withheld their trust as they exchanged pleasantries and shared whatever old news they could spare.

They found the wizard they almost recognized earlier. He scowled at something invisible, marring the placid indifference on his pale face.

"Why are we following him?" Wahde asked at a hiss.

"We need to catch him before he apparates. Bakr mentioned a Death Eater earlier, and it couldn't have been Travers or Lestrange- they've never seen Said in their lives, and they didn't know about what happened to the Goldsteins."

They reached the hallway first, finding their target had stopped to talk to someone else, when it looked like he had been on his way out.

"You are not making sense. How do you know-"

"The Death Eaters are a microcosm of what we saw in there- they're a bunch of dark wizards with different intentions who spend a lot of time hiding things from each other," he explained. Days ago, he had told her as much about them and Voldemort as he knew, mostly to pass the time, but this was something even he was just figuring out. _I should have learned how they worked in Hogwarts._ "There are quite a few of them at this point, more than I've seen in any real fighting force around here, but bringing more in only makes them more divided along ideological lines. I should've known there was a reason lords and ladies were doing business with common criminals."

The dark wizard came out into the hallway, leaving them no more time to talk. All the same, it seemed he knew why they were there.

"Your English is rather good for a Romanian," he started, tossing a long strand of black hair out of his face. "By all means, though, continue trying to follow me."

"It's about Goldstein-"

"No need to worry about him, friend. He's not coming out of his box any time soon," the Death Eater explained before sauntering off to disapparate. Charlie supposed he could have stunned the man if he felt like it, or tried, anyway, but it seemed a futile effort. With their cover undone, they had no pretext for following him home, and as he disappeared a few steps away, they had no way of following him.

"That must be why Said offered to exchange him for the good will of the Death Eaters. He's already been considering it. As soon as he heard the kid was a personal enemy of theirs, he went to the Ashanti Kingdom..." he trailed off.

The pair of them went down the elevator in disappointment. They were lucky they had not been outed and killed, he knew, but it felt like a waste of a few weeks getting ready to realize their real target had escaped their grasp again. _It all seems too coincidental in the first place._

Reaching the ground floor of the building, however, their disappointment was immediately replaced with confusion.

A gaunt, wide-eyed man with long black hair stared directly at them. One of the wizards from before had a wand to his throat, though it appeared he was not presenting a threat.

"They're saying they caught him trying to sneak in-" Wahde started. "Is he an enemy?"

"He's a friend of ours," Charlie called out with what confidence he could manage. "Please, whatever he told you, he's in more trouble with the Black Sea Sorcerers than you. This display of incompetence and impropriety will not be taken lightly." His companion did her best to translate as he strode over to the man and struck him with an open palm. The wizard from Ethiopia stepped back almost instinctively. The captive man met his eyes.

"Why?" His voice was pained and soft.

"Alexandru, they're asking us to prove we know him," the witch behind him explained. _Our cover is slipping- no, no, Merlin, why?!_

With all the wisdom of Merlin he could not have said what was happening; it was all so fast and so perfectly ruthless. All he could do was pray their luck would continue to be so unfairly good to them, closing his eyes a moment to get his bearings as he tried to think of an answer to all the questions everyone was asking.


	44. Evacuation

It had not been Ron's idea to take Hannah to his home; it just sort of happened that way.

Earlier that week, they had visited her home, where he met her mother, a larger, older version of Hannah who was kind and honest. Presently, they sat at the family table with his father on one end and his mother on the other.

"Why don't you ever take your other friends home?" Arthur Weasley asked. "We'd love to meet them, since we've heard so much about them."

"True enough, dear," his wife countered. "Yet he's always on about Hannah, with what a pretty witch she is."

"Mother!" he shouted, both he and the girl going red. Their fingers brushed against each other under the table. All at once the approval of his family members seemed irrelevant as he found himself lost in Hannah's eyes, their hands locking together.

"Oh, look, they're holding hands!" a voice called from upstairs, the familiar creaking indicating a descent was taking place. He expected it to be Fred, or Charlie, or anyone else, but as he whipped his head around and blinked a few times, he saw that it was Ginny.

"But... but it can't be you..." he managed after a length of time that escaped him. The sunlight filtering through the window was fading quickly.

"That's right, I'm dead. Silly me," his sister said before collapsing into a bloody mess. He raced over to her as Hannah transformed behind him.

"No, no, you're going to be alright!" he assured, mostly assuring himself as he turned around again. "We're going to rescue you-"

His parents were dead. The werewolf had slaughtered them before they even had the chance to react.

"No, you can't die- no, this is all wrong-"

It felt like the nightmare would have continued had it not been for someone shaking him awake.

"We need to be on our toes." It was his brother waking him, meaning he still had some family left. His face had been pressed against a window, which presently hurt his teeth. _That's right. We're on the train._ In their escape from the school, some of the weaker fliers had enlisted a pair of oddly helpful elves while he and the twins mounted the three broomsticks and forced their way out of a window. An Auror from the air went after them, and it looked like they were through, but he turned around for some reason and George hit him with a leg-locker to keep him from controlling the broom as Fred knocked his wand out of his hand.

_What was it that made him turn around? If we'd been anyone else, it'd have cost 'im his life._

He took stock of the people around him in the double compartment, one of which he had never occupied.

Parvati was staring straight at him, Hermione was mercifully asleep next to him with Mafalda, and his brothers were across from him.

"Where's Cho?"

"She's getting us a portkey," Fred started. "Seeker that she is, shouldn't be out of her wheelhouse."

"Would've liked to see her getting out of that rat's trap on a broom," George muttered. "Must've blended in well; real natural at playing a wizard her age."

The Indian witch scowled.

"The Aurors don't know everyone," she obviated. "Really, we should all be happy she happened to have a pair of trousers on."

The twins chuckled at the convenience that narrowly saved their lives. _I guess if she'd been in her uniform, no one would have believed she was that wizard, or she'd have had to try a lot harder at acting. Must have some kind of preference for trousers every so often, playing Quidditch and all._

Eventually, Cho would return with a portkey, but his concern was where they were going after that.

"What about Terry- and Hannah? Where is she?"

"She's still alive," Parvati supplied. "When I got here, Cho and I met with Sir Nicholas and he gave a full report, from a perfectly reasonable distance, in his words. Apparently, she went to the Department, which might be a bit better than the Death Eaters, but they're going to be getting information out of her until they're satisfied they have everything."

Ron was not quite certain how it would be worse if Voldemort were in charge of her, but he could tell the witch was glaring at him.

"What?"

"Do you know what Dean would say, if he were here?"

"No. Where is he?"

"He'd say you should have put her out of her misery when you had the chance." She exhaled sharply. "I might not have been able to either, but that's what he would say. About an hour ago, or however long it's been since everything fell apart, he looked at me and told me it was time."

"Time for _what_?"

"That's enough, both of you," Hermione muttered, rousing, likely due to the raised voices. _All this running has us exhausted- some of us more than others._ "I want to go after Hannah and Terry as much as you do, but we cannot trade a tiny chance at getting them back for all five of us."

"Well, how are we going to get into the Department?" he asked, redirecting. "We don't know where Terry went, so we can't do anything for him at the present-"

Footsteps outside the compartment had his wand out, but Fred raised a hand. It was Cho, whose disguise had faded. _Well, that's not that bad. I doubt anyone saw her do anything illegal._

"Do you have the-" The witch produced an oddly shaped piece of wood almost immediately.

"We must go. There is much to discuss."

As they nudged Mafalda awake and put their hands on the portkey, Ron could not help but notice the deep concern in the Ravenclaw's eyes.

As they released the piece of wood and the world stopped spinning, it appeared they were in some kind of upper room in a lively city, from the noise outside. Looking out the window, the street looked a little like Diagon Alley, but less magical and discernibly less cramped.

"The hell is this place?" he asked, turning around.

"Wales, I assume," George started. "Well, I've eliminated Wools and Wiles."

"Old man Gruffydd was a secretive fellow, but his accent gave it away. Might've been clearer for you if you'd asked. 'course, we might've decided you were nosy and sent you to Australia."

He looked over at Mafalda, but then remembered she was from Belfast, so a bit across the way. _Can't help but feel like there was someone we knew from here._ He put his odd feelings aside as everyone looked at Cho again.

"Did you see where they took Terry?" Hermione asked.

She shook her head.

"I wish I had. I think the Death Eaters were gone almost as soon as they took him." Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "I do not know what the Aurors were still doing in the school, but I saw some go in. When I was going back, I saw it fall."

"What?"

"I thought it could not be real. The castle... it collapsed. It was too fast for it to be one person."

"What do you mean it collapsed?!" Ron asked. Hermione touched his arm from behind him.

"Ron... I've been talking to Neville in the library every so often," she started. "He said it felt like there was something wrong with the school- the school's magic. The castle wasn't held together by pressure or... exemplary architecture... nothing in the world would have stood as long as Hogwarts without being supported by magic."

The Gryffindor wizard blinked in disbelief, or perhaps unwilling belief. He had heard time and time again of the wonders of the Four Founders, capable of great works they took to their graves, for fear such power would destroy the school, but it had never occurred to him that they did not build the school to last forever, and against all kinds of attacks, whatever conjured slings and transfigured arrows the world could manage. _No one builds things to fall the next year- I sure wouldn't want to have to build something twice... but I can't even start to think of a way to make something last forever._

Finally, it came to him that his belief that the castle would weather anything was more of a hope than anything else, something he had wanted to be able to take for granted. _First we lose Dumbledore... no first Voldemort comes back, then he gets an apprentice and makes us all try to kill each other, then Dumbledore dies..._ The boy clutching a strip of wood hard enough to make his hand turn purple turned from despair to rage as he pictured his enemies celebrating their almost uncontested victories. His face felt hot and his breath started heaving, but he forced it into regulation.

"We're going after _hard targets..._ " he growled. "That's final, no if's, and's or anything else- I don't know what Dean is doing- I don't _care_ what Dean is doing-" He turned to Parvati. "We're not going after anyone with every right to be in school and worry about scraping by on the exams- or Quidditch, or anything else we've given up. We're going after someone... responsible."

"Fine," Parvati responded. "I'll pass it along, but I can't guarantee anyone sensible is going to join in your plan of doing everything in the least effective way possible."

Ron had heard enough from Dean to know what she meant by the effective way. He had implied that his intention was to go after 'weak links' as he called them, but what he meant were soft targets. Generally, Ministry employees had forgotten most of what they learned in Hogwarts and did not proceed to use every day; the majority of them could not produce a shield charm- but there was a reasonable chance they were connected to Death Eaters or belonged to the faction. _He's meaning to get information out of them, probably._ He sighed. _At least they're adults._

With the destruction of Hogwarts and the diffusion of children across the British Isles, at least for the summer months, there was one soft target neither side could use. _Ministry'll be using this as a chance to build their own school, on their own territory. We'll need to have someone on the inside._

"Where are the Death Eaters going to put their kids?" he asked. _Not a chance in Hell they'd let 'em go to the Ministry school._

"They have properties, Ron," Hermione supplied. "You can claim to your credit your family has never been invited, but they have everything you could imagine. Floating castles, enchanted groves, and some of the more secretive will just buy city blocks in nonmagical cities. Ever since they've had the Philosopher's Stone, it's been easier than ever."

"That's a problem for the Ministry," Fred interjected. "They'll be switching the money system soon enough, not that they'll miss a chance to get out of debts."

Ron remembered his brothers had been trying to start a business for years, and had been encouraged to look into business licensing and regulation. It was this facet of their distaste for the government that had them particularly annoyed with Percy, and his indifference to 'misappropriations', whatever those were.

"They can use the Stone for other purposes than just creating pure gold," Hermione explained before George could finish whatever joke his twin started. "Even under an entirely different economic system... having it, even without anything else, would make them exceptionally powerful."

The Gryffindor doubted he was the only one trying to think of some way to nullify the benefit of the Stone, but it was impossible. Even if the entire world no longer valued gold, which would almost certainly destroy Secrecy, Voldemort would still have the font of eternal life. There was no way he could conceptualize any way life would not be valuable, unless it was no longer worth the living, and the Death Eaters seemed intent on making it so for those they did not kill themselves. _Guess they won't be able to sell any to Hermione when she's in prison fifty years after they've won. Can't say luck never did anything for us._

"Then the only thing we can do is get it away from them somehow," he decided. "If they don't do anything stupid all of a sudden, they won't abuse the gold so badly the muggles find out someone's got an unlimited supply."

"The Stone would be their most jealously guarded possession," Parvati started back, not rejecting it outright. "I would not be surprised to learn that Voldemort carries it with him."

There was a veritable pall cast over the group. The idea of it being warded, locked in a box in a foreign country might have collectively struck them as prohibitive, but the idea that he who had escaped death was holding it was beyond description.

He could feel Cho's hand shake as she gave him his wand, though her eyes were steel. Ron exhaled once before speaking, his thoughts still turning it over.

"Then we know where it is."

"Are you completely fucking deaf, you bellend?" George asked. "Did bloody Voldemort curse your ears off while he was infiltrating Hogwarts singlehandedly?"

"Perhaps it's genetic," Fred suggested. "I didn't hear a thing out of what anyone just said while we were all frozen in place."

"That's enough," Parvati shot back, taking a cue from Hermione. "Ron's right. Whether we destroy it or use it ourselves, we need to have it in our hands. No one's going to get it for us."

"What are we doing about the Department-"

"They'll be going after-"

"-us, they'll be going after us as soon as-"

"Stop!" Mafalda shouted. "You have to stop... no one can keep up with it when we're all talking at once... isn't this why we had a leader? I liked having a leader." _Fred and George might have taken suggestions from Terry. They'd never take an order from me._

"Terry suggested you once," Ron offered, looking to the Ravenclaw. She looked away. "Though of course it's too soon to say... damn it, we're not getting anywhere. Who wants to be leader until we get him back?"

No hands went up. _We can eliminate Parvati. I reckon she won't even stay the night here. Wherever in Wales 'here' is._

"Okay, well, what do we do today?" he asked. _Let's hope that's not too hard to figure out as a group._

"We should learn all we can about the situation," Hermione proposed. "We don't know where our friends are, we don't know what's changed in the Ministry, not the extent of the changes in any case, and we don't know what the Death Eaters were trying to accomplish by putting dementors in the school." Something in the witch's voice made it seem like she was interested in something else, but Ron could hardly guess what it was.

"Okay, then we should split up and meet back here," Parvati said. "There's no need for specific orders, you just learn all you can."

"Well, so we don't all go and look into the same thing-"

The twins said they would go asking after the Ministry before leaving the room. _Well, good for you. I hope your plan isn't just 'ask Dad.' He knows they don't tell him anything._

There was a misconception among Hogwarts students that the amount of public employees made keeping any kind of secret from the people impossible, but it was only because they did not understand how a 'need to know' system worked. It was not as if every employee were handed a full dissertation on the truth and another on what the people would be told, and they would have to lie by sticking with the second; they were handed only one version of the truth and the personal knowledge was so divided between the employees that one employee of one department may have memories that contradict a single detail on the public statement. _And at that point, it makes sense to assume you just misremembered it._

Having elected to see if there was any news about Hannah's capture, though he expected a fire call would be intercepted. _I don't even have an owl at this point- we'll have to come up with some way of contacting people who haven't probably been expelled. Hannah was looking into Occlumency, but that'd never work at any kind of range and we'd be vulnerable to an interception of an even worse kind._

Ron resolved to writing a coded letter to Susan Bones, who would be concerned for her and likely to know something through her aunt. _I'll put it through the damn floo- we have to leave this place anyway._

He learned from Hermione that Neville had already escaped; his grandmother had only just written her parents, whom she called on a fellytone. _Muggles'll be listening to those things- she'd be careful with what she said._ He went ahead and assumed the Longbottom matron had already written his parents, who probably did not need to hear three more of their children were missing, but at least they would know why. It occurred to him that she had invited Hannah to the manor as well, meaning she knew to see about her as well. _Mrs. Abbott won't be too surprised to find an owl at her window._

At the same time, it seemed like the wrong year to start a concerned parents' association.

It would turn out to be a moot point whether or not they should give Mafalda a task, having taken on one herself. She went with Cho to determine if there were a wizarding part of the city, and it turned out there was, called the Red Dragon's Pub, which went up and up in a spiraling staircase to eight or nine businesses for a magical clientele. They were in a larger city called Wrexham, far to the east as you could go in Wales. He cursed himself for rarely looking at maps, but guessed it was not a habit common among people who rarely travelled by car or train. Hermione had brought some books in her bag, but nothing about the area, only a few items on her long reading list. It had been up to her to research the Memory Charm, which was supposed to be difficult for a witch her age, and there was already more she had put on herself.

Ron caught her alone as everyone else seemed to be going about their tasks.

"Much as I hate to say this, it can't just be you reading and learning how to do everything. You'll get it all eventually, prob'ly faster'n any of us, but if we split up things you don't know, like Apparation and, well, I don't know, Legilimency up among the rest of us..."

"I agree," she said quietly. "That was what we were trying to do with the group, it just... well, a lot happened that was out of our hands." She took out a diagram of labeled circles. "I've been trying to add to this for a while, well, Terry and I were having these thoughts about the theory of magic, and we were wondering about where to put the Patronus Charm, and it just seems to be in a category of its own, now that I've seen it up close. It makes me wonder about the emotional component to dark magic and how that compares to the necessity of a happy memory."

She was silent for a moment.

"We'll get him back," he promised, knowing it was another impossible task to give himself. Hermione returned a sad smile.

"I don't know what to say. I truly don't know what to say except 'there's the man I know'. You make promises you cannot keep because you're not afraid of failure." All of a sudden he felt uncomfortable. _Hannah should have told- I should have told Terry, he'd have told her in a heartbeat- you can't just say things like this._ She nearly reached out, but he backed away, and a troubled look passed over her eyes. There had to be a reason he would reject being touched. "Oh. I should have expected it... Sorry. I really also should have supposed that I would be the last to know."

She walked off before he could get any words out, choked up as his throat was.


	45. The Girl in the Glass

Hermione was upset, and her affections being rebuffed gave her something to occupy her mind, especially as she realized she rarely showed affection. It was a fair bit to have to mull over, and she would mull it over when lying awake at night with no other distractions available, but during waking hours drowning herself in work had always been serviceable in the past.

She had borrowed a few books from the library that were relevant to her current research, including a text on Occlumency that might have helped Hannah, but Terry's bag was of greater interest, holding a few self-study books focused on getting advanced students to NEWT level while abroad for extended periods. _We're missing so much, but we'll have to start reading these eventually... Ron was on the right track about dividing it up, but we need to understand what we're dividing up and how._

In each of the diamond window panes there was a reflection staring back at her every moment she looked up from whatever she was reading.

It seemed impossible that Ron would have managed to hide his relationship with Hannah, since he was usually unsuccessful with what little he wanted to hide, but she reminded herself there might not have been a whole process of dating and flirting that she missed. Her mother, asking about boys and her plans for the future one summer, told her in no uncertain terms that, with all due respect for people her age, relationships between teenagers often started and stopped for the very dumbest of reasons. Her father corroborated with completely unnecessary anecdotal evidence.

 _What was it that she did, then? Did she tell him she liked him?_ It was something she would have done, deciding what her feelings were, but Hermione scoffed at the idea all the same. If she knew the Gryffindor at all, he would hardly have waited for her to say anything. _Then what was it that made him decide?_

She looked back at her reflection.

She had a mane of bushy, brown hair and a plain look about her. After several close scrapes and trips to the hospital wing, she would have been surprised if she never had her face magically reconstructed, which made her teeth look normal, but she barely noticed at the time. _I didn't notice because I didn't care. Why didn't I care? What's wrong with caring?_

The Ravenclaw shook her head. There was work to do, and it would be even more pathetic to start caring about appearances when the chance was passed. She doubted Ron lost sleep over his hair or his non-immediate future, but that was typical for young wizards. There was hardly a market for scalp poultices outside of _Witch Weekly_ mail-order, and she rolled her eyes enough at her dormmates taking divination to find their true loves that she could see the connection. _So when I don't want to act like the girls in my year, I act like the boys instead? How did I get so stupid?_

Her face was resting on the book, but she kept herself from crying. Someone put a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you need someone to take over for a minute?" It was Parvati's voice, but she sounded an awful lot like her sister for a moment. _It's better she doesn't know that reading_ was _my escape._ Hermione rose and let the Gryffindor witch look over the book that covered Apparation. "This is something we could use. The practical directions seem limited, so at least it's only hard to understand conceptually."

"It's my understanding that sixth-years learn it in a few afternoon practice sessions," she said, nodding. "In either case, we need some way of getting past the Trace."

"Fred and George said their old friend was in the area," Ron called out. Apparently he had sent his coded letters, but there was no response yet. There was no information on whether the floo regulators worked actively or retroactively, but he took a gamble on the latter. "If he's got unregistered portkeys, there's a good chance we can at least learn something about that."

In the magical corner of Wrexham, there was apparently no equivalent of Knockturn Alley, where she might have suggested going were it not the first place the Hit Wizards would look. As little as she liked it, the kinds of products they sold there were the exact variety that they needed. _Magical Cardiff might have something, and we need to be moving anyway._

There was a knock in the stairway to the pub below and her wand was out. There was a general sense of calm in the room as a robed figure came up the stairs. _The old wizard the twins mentioned..._

"The living legend, Gruffydd…" Fred started, but a hand from the robe prevented him as the figure straightened.

"Not quite..." a voice came as the hand removed a hood. The bearded face of an old man faded, replaced by a more familiar visage.

"Ms. Jones!" Hermione heard herself announce. _That was what Hannah called her, anyway..._

"Got it in one, you did," the trainee Auror said. "Mad-Eye's bringing the Order back, what's left of it anyway."

"Took him long enough," George muttered. "Hope he's had a fulfilling retirement."

_If both of them know who 'Mad-Eye' is, he's most likely a retired Auror, someone decorated from last time. Lady Longbottom told us about the Order, which I understand had a few Aurors as members._

As for why the group did not reassemble itself after the return of Voldemort, she suspected some hoped the system could solve the problem, that the Dark Lord was friendless as he was in death, and the expanded Auror Corps would make short work of him. The Ministry, however, denied the problem until it could hardly be avoided, and doubled down on blaming everything on Dumbledore, even after he died, which made sense, as there was no one around to complain about it on his behalf. _Really, though, I'll have to ask them._

"Well, did you come here to tell us that?" Ron asked. Hermione detected an upset note in his voice, probably the result of being misled, his brothers being misled, or both. _Hestia Jones is superb at remaining unnoticed when she wants. When she was assigned to protecting Neville, Hannah told me she appeared out of nowhere once, and she couldn't have apparated. My main question is why she's been handing out unregistered portkeys._

"I came here to help, as all along. If any of you are interested in joining the Order, speak now or I'm off."

Nothing was said for a moment. The Ravenclaw witch knew the group was well-meaning, but there was virtually no chance that they would be allowed to do anything, ranging from fourteen to seventeen- maybe the Weasley twins would have a seat at the table, but that would be it. _It's possible she was giving them a taste of being in the Order and the privileges it affords this whole time._

Hermione sighed. The worst thing was, she and Ron at least were on the run from the law, and the trainee Auror represented a known group, a worst-kept-secret rather than a sleeper cell. If any of the members held regular jobs, they could be followed back to the hideout, wherever it was, and the pair of them would be discovered, making a headache for everyone else for harboring fugitives.

"I'm sorry to reject your offer while knowing so little about it..." she started. "... but I can't come up with any way it won't be the worse for both of us. We're going to be moving on from here soon..."

"So you'll need another portkey. As it happens, I thought to bring one with me, I did," Ms. Jones volunteered before levitating a playing card in their direction. "Not to worry about us, of course. We don't come after people for staying out of things."

_No one said we were staying out of things._

"Where can we find you?" Parvati asked. The Order representative was explaining something about a well-hidden place in London, but Hermione was only watching the twins. They were interested, and she seemed to understand the looks they were shooting her. _They want to have a conversation outside with her. After we lose our other Gryffindor, we'll be down to four until we can find Hannah and Terry... and that's if we can find them._

Recruitment seemed a failure all of a sudden, but Ron's countenance had not wavered, for some reason.

"Are you coming?" she asked, turning to the Indian witch. "We might as well, before they know where we are."

Parvati's eyes narrowed.

"I suppose. I was only just getting acquainted with your Slytherin friend, after all." _That's just brilliant. I'm so glad you've noticed._

The five of them gathered around the portkey with a shuffling of feet.

_I never asked Cho why she fights with us. Was it because of the twins? No, it can't be-_

All at once they were elsewhere. Taking stock of their situation with her wand out, Hermione found they were on an abandoned Quidditch Pitch. _It's a wizarding area, but at least it's dark here. We can sleep in the changing rooms or something._ It occurred to her that Ron would be by himself, while she would have three companions. _Well, I wish we had someone else here, for his sake, but I can't keep hanging around wizards exclusively- the fact that I'm already wondering about what to discuss with everyone is a good enough reason already._

Cho and Parvati had their eyes up, as if there would be relevant information about their exact position on a neon sign somewhere. _Well, the stars could narrow it down slightly. Parvati was serious about Divination._

"We've not left the northern hemisphere, but we're far from home," the Indian witch said.

"We may learn about which teams play here inside," Cho speculated. _...and we can usually count on her to supply a simpler, more helpful solution._

Her smile seemed to be irritating the Gryffindor witch. Mafalda walked slowly behind them.

"I think you should take the first shower," Hermione suggested, turning to the lone Slytherin, who shrugged. _Anyone would be demoralized at this point. I suppose I should be impressed at everyone else's resilience. Of course, Ron hasn't spoken where it wasn't perfectly necessary... well, he has another reason to be taking this hard._

The three older witches filed into a single changing room quietly. It was perhaps excessive to have the lone wizard on the other side of the locker room arrangement, but it gave them some sense of familiarity, and he would be less likely to hear them. The water started.

"Say, Parvati, I was wondering, why do you like... hanging around Dean so much?" she managed. "I mean, if you'd rather not say-"

"He needs me. I think most people assume he's impressed his general manner on me, but we drew together in the first place because we discovered, well, we're similar in odd ways. I keep his secrets and keep him out of too much trouble."

_That was direct. Well, I expected direct, but I did not expect 'personal'._

"I see," Cho started back. "I like Roger; he is reasonable and direct."

_I didn't entirely mean for the conversation to go in that direction._

"That was the impression I had of him," Hermione commented. "Is he involved in the conflict?" She had some idea of what he was like as a person, but what he was like as a boyfriend remained beyond her. _I suppose I don't know how selective Cho is, not that it's any of my-_

"He told me not to be involved myself. He concealed his own side, to prevent me from taking it."

The idea made her lose her train of thought. _I suppose, from one perspective or another, that's the responsible thing to do, but it seems unfair to make himself responsible for her life. He's a year older, but apart from that there's not a substantial difference in their abilities._

"I don't get it. Why are you here?" Parvati asked.

"I decided he would fight quietly, alone, and always for what is right," Cho answered quietly. "I trust him." The other Ravenclaw found herself staring at the floor. "If I followed him into battle, he would stun me. He would hide me somewhere. He is a selfish young man."

Hermione wondered if these discussions ever took place in the boys' dorm, and she doubted it with the same downward smile that her friend wore. _I'm sure Ron appreciates me and Hannah, well, probably her a bit more than me, but it's an unconscious appreciation._ It was possible they were all appreciating each other more, with as many deaths as had happened, some closer to home than others. _I didn't say anything to him when he learned he lost Ginny. I couldn't think of anything to say and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. How could I possibly understand? I don't have brothers or sisters. I certainly haven't lost any._

Cho and Parvati were talking about Padma when Mafalda came in. Hermione was less than engrossed in the conversation and left without a word, guessing her way to the showers based on how long it took the Slytherin to get back. _The only good thing either of them can say about her is that she turned out to be right about the Ministry and the Department. Even the Hufflepuffs are acting as she predicted, mostly._

The Ravenclaw witch had her clothes off quickly and sighed in an odd sense of relief as she found no mirror in the shower. She doubted any of the witches in her year were just effortless beauties who never had to agonize over the slightest imperfections, but it felt pathetic to remind herself of their humanity, somehow. As she efficiently went about washing herself, applying a warming charm in the process, it seemed the only way to feel better was to make some small step that no one would particularly noticed, but she lacked an idea of where to start. She supposed she could swallow her pride and ask Cho what she did every day, remembering that up until recently she never took pride in appearances, femininity, or being able to relate with other girls, so it was not out of the question.

Turning her thoughts to Mafalda, who had latched onto Hannah, she winced at the thought of trying to console her, but the Hufflepuff had never been a professional. Hermione sighed as she surfaced from the shower and used a drying charm, sighing as if to expel the worries and doubt that fogged her mind, as if she were about to take a surprise exam, which somehow registered as less stressful.

It sounded like Parvati had taken to talking to the Slytherin, which explained why Cho had taken the unspoken cue of the water turning off, surfacing from the changing room.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to have any..." she started as the Chinese witch passed her.

"I am afraid I would not," the other Ravenclaw responded. "I did not think to take my scalp balm with me." She took a few more steps before turning around again. "I saw what happened between you and the twins' brother." Hermione swallowed. "For what it is worth, I believe Terrence was interested."

Cho disappeared after that, most likely because she enjoyed the awkwardness of the conversation as much as anyone else involved. _Well, she has a shower to take. I just have to stand here figuring out my life before the others start to wonder why I haven't rejoined them._

She lowered herself onto a wooden bench in the off-white room, wondering why they had so many changing rooms except the convenience afforded by extension charms, though she would have to see the exterior to know for certain. Resting her forehead on her fingertips she contemplated the significance of Terry seeming interested in her. _Well, that's what everyone would think, isn't it? A typical red-blooded male can't possibly be studying with a female because they're interested in the same things or because they're helping each other._ She had a thought of other witches laughing behind her back for not realizing, when they knew less about him than she did and her fingers curled for a moment before relaxing. _There's nothing wrong with his being interested in me. He must be taking our similar interests into account._ Hermione rose, deciding to see about Mafalda and Parvati. _But that's it, though, isn't it? It never entered my mind anyone would ever be interested in me._

Half of the words the older witch was saying were some language other than English, but only the younger was listening. The Ravenclaw merely registered her reappearance as she wondered whether or not it would have been better to be formally turned down. _No, then I'd have to make Ron get the words out. Terry could not tell me he likes me, and even though Ron's significantly more direct, I doubt he could tell me he has no love for me._

Raising her head a bit, she decided that was most likely false, and not simply because she hoped it. The four of them, at some level, loved each other, disagreements and known faults aside. Thinking about it, there was next to nothing she would not do for any of her friends, Terry, Ron, Hannah, Neville... she gave herself permission to be more reticent with those outside the immediate circle. Fighting together, trusting each other... there was an indelible bond between them she expected would go beyond the grave. Of late she had started to take more careful notes, not relying on her own memory to fill in the gaps in case Ron or Neville or someone else needed to know about the properties of aconite after her death. In a sense, Terry had something of his own prepared, having them retrieve his bag from the mysterious room.

_He's not dead. It's too soon to give up on him._

Hermione half-listened as Parvati went over a few resources on the magic she and her sister knew, her head still swimming with her other problems. _A disguise might help us rescue our friends, but if they're still alive we need to know where they are._

She froze. _I've been using magic instinctively- I've cast a warming charm, a drying-_

"Is the Trace active here or is this a protected region?" she asked out of nowhere.

"It's a Quidditch Pitch," the Gryffindor witch started back. "I think Hestia dropped us here so that we could use magic if we needed. However, you do bring up an important point..."

"I'll work it out," the Ravenclaw offered. "I happen to have a book on the Trace." _Well, properly, Terry has a few clippings from the Prophet, and only because he'd proposed a mobile secret base. I really just need to keep her talking to her favorite pupil._ She decided it was possible Cho had the same idea.

The Trace, effectively, was a layering of wards on the British Isles. She had no idea how it was put in place, only that there must be a map of circles keyed to mutable wards. The most likely explanation for the occasional mix-up in the location of a spell being cast was that two of the mutable wards went off, which narrowed it down to two exact points. Hermione knew she was extrapolating a fair bit, but it was a way of going about the task that made sense. Any kind of warding of multiple islands would have to be time consuming and a borderline Statute violation in itself, and some of the gaps were built into the system to save some of the enormous effort it already required. _The wards could be removed easily, but removing one would set off the one or two touching it, and removing all of them seems impossible out of hand. What we need is a way of keeping the ward from activating._

Thinking about it, the wards never activated for those of magical majority, it was not simply a matter of magic going unpunished, because Death Eater attacks in muggle areas would be inconceivable, and there were some documented cases of those. Writing each ward to keep from activating if an adult stood on it, however, would have turned a great effort into a ridiculous effort, supporting her theory they were not individually written, but rather mutable wards. _A single spell wrote them all, and the spell excluded adults... well, adults and anyone with enough bad ideas to try._


	46. Tea without the Sweetness

Neville knew his grandmother meant well, procuring a litany of unregistered portkeys through old friends and the like, but up until their guests started showing up, he had no idea what she meant to do with them. _Well, I might have had a guess, but I wouldn't remember that._

The Grangers were the first to arrive, a bit dazed as they were, looking all around to see in what kind of ancient estate had they landed. The Longbottoms never shared the Malfoys' faith in the peacock as the fashionable animal to have through the ages, and instead kept a herd of ponies he was explicitly forbidden from riding, trying to ride, or befriending.

"Hello, M-Lady Longbottom," one of the parents started. "You explained briefly that you needed to see us, and I assume that this is your stately home, but... well, I should go ahead and assume this has something to do with Hermione?"

"You are quite correct."

His grandmother's tone was not the least bit patronizing. _Damn. Things are really going south when she's not just being polite because she has to._

A man and a woman appeared, and they adjusted to her surroundings quickly.

"You must be Cho's mother and father," Neville started, doing his best to maintain hospitality. "I hope your trip went well. I've never taken a portkey from so far." _Oh, wait, damn it all, I shouldn't have assumed they were related-_

"Near and far are no different," the middle-aged witch said, smiling momentarily. "We thought our trip from Glasgow to London was far."

_They could have been visiting family in China, I suppose. Either way, Hermione's going to let me have it if she ever finds out I assumed they were-_

It appeared his grandmother decided to lead the families to the outdoor tea table, which was significantly larger than it had been the last time they used it. _It was clever of her to look up all the parents of missing Hogwarts students as a way of figuring out who all is out there, helping our friends... or fighting against them._

At last a great circle of parents waited with an alarming patience around the great table as the tea came out.

"I am to understand the school has fallen?" one asked. He might have been Terry's father, from the looks of him.

"Fallen?" Dr. Granger asked. "What exactly do you mean by fallen?"

"I'm afraid we mean it in a quite literal sense," Lady Longbottom explained. "The castle has been destroyed, as my sources tell, by a joint effort of Death Eaters, Ministry officials, and students themselves."

Rather than everyone talking at once, there was a stunned silence.

"Well, I suppose we should have expected it- putting our children in the same place as-"

"I shall have to tell the parents of the other children how you feel, Mr. Prewett. I have already informed the Weasleys of their situation, and they responded without outburst. The father told me that what we should have expected was that when we left conflicts unresolved, the very same would reach their children eventually." Neville saw his grandmother sigh before speaking again. "The Death Eaters have returned and the government has only grown more corrupt- in the name of fighting the first, we allowed the second to take on unparalleled powers, but since Roman times those powers have never been the temporary measures we hoped." She levitated the liquid tea from her cup and extracted sugar from it, though he had not seen her put sugar in. _She never needs to tell the elves to leave it out._ "The Romans had a problem they never truly solved, and it killed them, magical and muggle alike. Augurs warned the Senators that their republic would be destroyed on the Ides of March and they responded by killing the man they feared would seize power."

"They only forgot all the people who supported him," Hermione's father muttered. Looking across the table, the Changs seemed particularly interested. _Well, they might be hearing it for the first time._

"Precisely," the Longbottom matron continued. "Striking at the top was effective, yet Caesar had immense popular support and a base among the Senators and aristocracy. Without the force or magical supremacy to eradicate them entirely, they should have acted to undermine the emergency power provision and revealed to the public the limited success against the Apothecaries of Gaul. By assassinating the primary threat, they handed control of the narrative to the rest of the Senators, arguing that the murder of a beloved, celebrated general demonstrated than an imperator needed greater power to shield himself against Senators and aristocrats."

_They got rid of the man without getting rid of his seat. His old friends offered it to whoever would be their new friends._

"It's like a hydra..." he started, quietly. "Even with all his powers, Caesar was only in charge of specific areas, and he couldn't have gotten there alone..." _He didn't. There were plenty of people helping him get where he wanted, and he always wanted to be like Alexander the Great._

"I feel we may have strayed from the most important issue- our children." It was one of the parents Neville did not know. "I suppose, with your son right here, you may have forgotten-"

"My son lies in a hospital bed, where he will for the rest of his days," Augusta Longbottom interrupted. "Yes, I suppose, I know where he is. Tortured to insanity fighting dark wizards, he and his wife have left their son in my care."

The mood around the table changed considerably, yet the sad story did not necessarily prove the concern to be wrong.

"Your son was an adult, then," Mrs. Boot ventured. Neville could see so much of the young Ravenclaw in her he looked away. "Do you know where ours is?"

"No. Either he has escaped with the Weasley boy or a fate from which none can save him has already befallen him." She turned to the Grangers. "Your daughter managed to reach me by firecall, though she told me she could stay where she was no longer."

"That means she doesn't have any intention to tell you or her parents where she went," another unrecognizable parent said. _That was where Gran got her idea that they might have died. If they're running scared, they must have seen something... well, they are fugitives, but the fact they can't even tell..._

"Well, why didn't you ask where they were going?" someone else asked. "It doesn't matter what you have to do, we have a responsibility to keep them-"

"Safe? Alive?" another voice asked before Neville's eyes could track it. "The only way of doing that is keeping the Ministry and the Death Eaters from finding them." It was Hermione's mother. _That's right... a pair of them took her hostage right before second year. We're not safe at home... even I'm probably not._

He knew that 'sitting the fence' as virtually everyone described it would not save him. They attributed it to cowardice, and at the beginning, it even seemed that way to him, and he hated himself for it. He consistently failed to understand why he consistently failed to be brave. Malfoy seemed to think he had tried too hard in an attempt to save himself, a demonstration of the irrationality of fear. A handful of the conspirators, including Leanne, characterized refusing to side with the blood purists heroic, but refusing to side with them could only mean you were one of the conspirators.

Sitting at lunch with Terry one time changed his mind.

The short of it was, the Ravenclaw told him that braving danger while afraid was the definition of courage. He had an oddly wistful look, but Neville could not remember if he knew why. By taking the path of greatest resistance, he was being stupid, which he understood, but brave enough.

"As long as you're aware and afraid of it," he added.

"Terrified."

There was no time, however, for the Hufflepuff to go over his memories, though if he started at the beginning and caught up to the present, he was sure it would not take long. The conversation around him had progressed. It seemed there were those suggesting putting the muggles out of the way, protecting them and keeping them from being used as hostages. It was not their war, after all.

"Thanks, but we'll have to reject your patronizing-"

"Edgar! Knowing when you need help-"

"This isn't helping, this is keeping us prisoner. Our son will not be motivated by threats on our lives." _Who are you?_ He had an Irish sound to his voice, but Neville had been mistaken in the past. "He's not a chiseler any more, he's using his head, and if people come after us, we'll fight them."

Edgar, as he was called omitted any kind of confession to not knowing how to fight their pursuers, though he at least was married to a witch. The Grangers had no such advantages.

"I expect moving to Australia won't help as long as we keep our names," one of the dentists speculated. "Would the magical government of China forbid them from entering Hong Kong?"

There was a chorus of interested mutterings around the table, only just above the whispers.

"I can see where your daughter derives her cleverness, Dr. Granger," his grandmother said. _That's right... Hong Kong is its own country in the Muggle world, and it's easy enough for Brits to move there. Even if the Ministers of the Imperial Palace wanted to keep Hermione's parents out for some reason, they'd have to pretend not to notice._ "The Death Eaters, however, have done little to draw international ire. Appearing uninvited at the World Cup in Dartmoor and causing trouble was a jab at the Ministry's competence, not a demonstration of a tendency to word domination. The Chinese specifically would never reject them out of hand, as the Death Eaters are presently no threat to them."

Neville could hardly help but glance at the Changs, who had adopted grim expressions. To put it plainly, some Death Eaters they did not recognize produced an incredibly large, enchanted, golden dragon statue to guard the mountains of the Li river. It was unthinkable to melt down such a gift, but it appeared to be entirely gold, meaning its value was incalculable. _Damn, they're even cleverer than I thought. Damn. They can't just give China a billion galleons or the economy would... do something weird, and it'd be the same if they bought something to give them, so they used the gold to make a gift._ As far as he knew, the Ministry had concealed the fact that Voldemort had the Stone, which was actually a reasonable idea, but the Chinese likely had no idea that the gift was a majestic statue, to be sure, but not as much of a show of appreciation, costing the Death Eaters next to nothing.

It seemed like a good idea to put the muggle parents in one place, the better to guard them, but if they disappeared from the muggle world entirely their enemies would not have a long list of places to look. It would be possible to pretend to be sending them somewhere, but easier to fake their deaths with some amount of false memory charms, and a few transfigured corpses.

"Mr. Weasley works in Bewitching Muggle Artefacts!"

He cast his eyes downward as everyone looked at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, I was thinking, if anyone wanted to pretend to be dead, we could transfigure some corpses, and just leave them in your homes. It may take a few false memory charms if anyone sees us, though, and I remembered Ron's father being rather brilliant with them. He once told me he was just fond of them, and that was why he used them more than necessary," Neville explained, rambling a bit. _I also happened to be a bit proud of myself, remembering something and all._

"In all honesty, the plan might reasonably extrapolate to those of us who can perform magic," Edgar's wife said, her hand still on his arm. "Though I went through Hogwarts and passed with everyone else, I can't hardly remember everything I learned as a colleen." She looked around, as though waiting for a muggle to reveal his memory of secondary school was impeccable, and he could easily reproduce the skills he learned that had nothing to do with his work. "Most of us would fare no better against a Death Eater than a muggle, and we'd do well to admit it, so we would."

Lady Longbottom nodded.

"There is much to consider about our plans going forward, that much is sure. I called this meeting, primarily, to inform parents of their circumstances, though I could hardly have hundreds around my tea table. I shall have to ask that you treat other parents and guardians of missing students with the same respect." Looking around, Neville noticed that the Patils were absent, which made sense. _Padma's on one side and Parvati's on another... if I'm not mistaken, Hermione might have told Gran about that._ He checked his Remembrall, not knowing what he expected to see. In either case, it seemed better for someone to tell them privately rather than at a meeting.

One of the parents he did not recognize took a turn speaking.

"Our children confused us when they spoke of blood purists and conspirators... I'm sorry, but I don't feel I have the appropriate historical context for this sort of conflict."

The young Hufflepuff's eyes blinked into focus. _That means both your kids took the same side... or at least I think it does._ As far as he understood it, siblings were somewhat rare at Hogwarts, and Malfoy seemed to know why, but there were other possible explanations according to Hermione. It was less common to be born during times of hardship and bloodshed, meaning the school was lucky to be getting what it had.

"None of us will tell you which side to take, if any," the witch next to Edgar said. "It should be clear enough, however, if you listen to the history-"

"-and it will be better to have a variety of sources," someone else finished. There was a growing tension around the table.

"I called this meeting not because of our differences, but because of our common cause of having children caught up in-" his grandmother started. Her aquiline stare bore into the skull of the stranger who interrupted her.

"If we can hide ourselves, can't we hide them?"

"Our ability to hide ourselves remains unknown," the Longbottom matron responded. "Secondly, if everyone too noble for battle remained in hiding, however the war will end, it will end in the worst way possible. At my estate I shall hide no more than those who cannot fight and are unwilling to die in the attempt."

She seemed to be implicitly giving his friends as much chance of survival as a muggle targeted by Death Eaters, which was only a little unfair. In his thinking they hardly had an option at this point; wanted by the Ministry they would be chased to the ends of the Earth, unlike Anthony who was allowed to disappear because he was the least of their worries. Similarly, it seemed impossible for him or his grandmother to track his friends down and drag them into hiding; if they could run from enemies they could run from friends, and it would be better not to give the Department or anyone else an idea of where their targets were by chasing them.

_Really, it only leaves me wondering where I'll end up, but I've been wondering that since I was seven, so at least I'm used to the uncertainty._

As if in an answer to his question he caught sight of Hestia Jones at the edge of the property. _Great, now I have to wonder what her deal is again._ He could not remember whether she was tight-lipped and all he ever got out of her was that Dumbledore assigned her to an important task, or if he forgot, but he cared not to check his Remembrall. She approached from his right and bid him rise, but he pretended not to see her. _I'm pretty sure she pretended not to hear about nine parts in ten of what I needed from her._

"Neville, it appears you have a visitor."

He turned his head. He truly hated being rude, since his grandmother would always correct him, but he hardly expected Hestia to just show up out of nowhere.

"We shall be quite all right without you for the time being."

It was the gentler prodding Lady Longbottom reserved for when company was present. _Might as well._

The young Hufflepuff followed his former tutor without particular complaint. They seemed to be headed for the front of the property.

"Your friends need to learn to make their own portkeys."

"Where are they?" he asked at a whisper, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't know."

"You're lying. If you made a portkey for them-"

"I am lying, but I'm lying under orders. Learn to tell the difference." Hestia turned to look at him.

"Do you have any other orders-"

"The orders end today, they do. Consider this the final act of brilliance of Albus Dumbledore, sending you, a cornerstone of the anti-Voldemort efforts, as far from the battlefield as possible-"

"What?! I- I refuse!" Neville stammered back. "I'm not hiding while all my friends are- it's literally all of them, out there fighting- just because I'm a bit forgetful doesn't mean I can't be of any use!"

"Dumbledore didn't tell me why you have to leave, only that you're important, and I'm only telling you because I need it out of you that you won't just come back," his former tutor explained, digging around in her cloak for something.

"I'm not important- well, I'm not especially important- Dumbeldore said that kind of thing about everyone! He just wants me out of the way, where I won't get hurt."

Hestia appeared to consider his words.

"That would make sense, considering what he asked me to give you," she said, extending an odd length of fabric. "It's an invisibility cloak that's served me well so far, but apparently you need it more."

"Keep it." _If I'm not useful, I don't need protection._

The witch sighed, bending at the knees to meet his eyes.

"This may come as a shock to you, but I've known I'm no angel, I have. I don't really care what people do as long as they're on our side, so I'm no hypocrite either, but I did look up to Dumbledore. I still do. I can't tell you why he wanted you out of the country, and if he's giving you a cloak I can't swear to you it's not just the better to hide you. I can tell you that I trust him, and he's never once betrayed my trust, he's not."

Neville contemplated the injustice of how he was being treated, even as he was starting to look a little braver and more capable. He supposed it would not make a difference to someone like the former Headmaster, but there remained the question of why he made a difference.

"Why am I important?" he asked, noticing a change in Hestia's demeanor. _She's not asking me to do my assignments or remember something for five minutes. She's asking me to trust her, or maybe trust Dumbledore._

"Well, he told me enough about that, but you'll have to forgive us both, because he told me not to tell you, he did." She put a hand on his shoulder. "He told your grandmother, and that's the only way she's letting me take you, but don't think you'll be getting it out of her."

The young Hufflepuff tried to come up with some significance he had, something his grandmother would accept, if for no other reason than at the request of her former teacher. The witch before him produced a portkey, which took the form of a small, brass button.

"I don't understand," he started back, failing to keep his voice steady. "I- I just don't understand anything. Can you at least tell me where I'm going?" _I'll need to have some idea of what I'm doing there._

"Well, that's an easy one," Hestia answered, tossing him the portkey. "You're going to the only place mad enough to have you."


	47. The Dark Lord's Displeasure

The dark wizard had been entirely unapproachable for hours, if not the entire day.

Few people in the room understood what Hogwarts meant to the Lord Voldemort except for Draco, and he had every expectation the master would disguise his rage, his heart burning for the loss of pure blood heritage and tradition, not the books and proud academic history. As an orphan, the school had been his first home, and no great fortress or stately manor could replace it. He had called a meeting in the secret grove belonging to the Lestrange family, a dreamlike place where the grassy hills had been enchanted to be comfortable, and the rain light and warm. Seasons resulted in chromatic and aromatic changes alone, as he was told; by day a gentle sunlight filtered through the low branches of the trees, and by night it was dark enough to sleep, but everything in the grove produced a slight glow.

There was no peace in the garden, however, with the Dark Lord displeased.

He had not spoken a word since being informed of the destruction of Hogwarts; he sat still and calm under an apple tree, and yet the anger radiating from the dark wizard was enough to keep everyone from so much as approaching him. Whispers crept among the Death Eaters, though Draco was left out, the youngest among them by far. His vassals were already going back in the Durmstrang ship without their Headmaster, though he and 'Karkaroff' would be along soon enough.

At long last Aunt Bellatrix approached, looking more of a wreck than usual.

"My lord... you must abandon the caution of those around you and strike with fury... the destruction of the castle must not go unpunished..." Whether the tears she was choking back were genuine or feigned her nephew could not have said.

"If I may, my lord," his lord father intervened. "Honor has not been directly injured as you are now the Head of a school of your own; tradition and men would view you as a rival. There is no immediate need to abandon the plan."

In the gloomy twilight there was a pause as the wizards waited for some sort of response.

"Lucius... always the voice of reason, yet never the voice of action. You propose, correctly, that the course remain, yet I wonder if any among you but noticed the loss of the school. Bellatrix... the time comes slowly that I shall make a ruin of those who have so angered me, but dying and returning from death has taught me patience, and I doubt you would be pleased to learn it the same way. To take a Paralyzing Poultice from its heat source even a moment before the mistletoe berries boil completely is to spoil the whole brew."

"Your wisdom is unparalleled as ever, my lord," Draco's aunt said before rejoining the gathered crowd of Death Eaters.

"Lucius, for you there is another matter," the Lord Voldemort said, eyes narrowing. "I had been under the impression that the circumstances surrounding the Minister were contained. A sudden resignation is most... unexpected."

"Now that he is irrelevant to the plan, I can assure you Cornelius Fudge will feel your wrath through any combination of us."

"Of course, Lucius, of course, and yet, I found myself wondering who it was that had me under such a false impression," the dark wizard continued, another pause taking shape. "Should I doubt this particular source in the future? Perhaps a second set of eyes would benefit us all." By the whispers moving through the garden it seemed to Draco he was among the last to realize the Dark Lord meant to have his father watched by a man more loyal.

"In the sense that all predictions are uncertain, by the slightest margin at least, you should doubt what you hear, my lord," his father replied. "For no fault of loyalty or ability would I fail to report the Minister's resignation in advance. The old fool no longer cares to notice my use of the mind arts, and I can assure you that even he knew nothing of his resignation before the Heir's rather... spectacular victory in the Tournament."

"True, true, young Evan does have a flair for the dramatic, though the uninspired would use the word 'gruesome'. Were it not for his father raising him with ideas of good and evil, he might already be a truly remarkable young wizard. Be away, Lucius, I imagine a regime change in the Ministry would require your presence, and you are hardly the wizard I loathe the most this particular hour."

Draco contained his overwhelming feeling of relief as his father walked to the border of the property's warding to disapparate. It seemed everyone was waiting for the sound before speaking again. _I suppose such is the price of making a conspiracy of Slytherins._

"Who is the wizard you loathe the most, my lord?" someone asked from the crowd.

"Severus, regrettably. I had hoped his distractions had met their end and he would serve with unerring loyalty, though it was anything but a deeply held conviction. His duties forestall his punishment in the present, but he was Headmaster the better part of a year before the school was destroyed."

The Malfoy heir had difficulty containing his pleasure, redoubling his efforts on occluding his mind. Though he acknowledged that Snape's warnings generally proved true and the punishments administered were warranted in context, he genuinely hated the man, and no amount of cruelty to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs would make up for it. To see the wizard punished would be a delight, and the best part was that he no longer had any specific authority over Draco or any of his vassals.

"Is that all? What will his punishment be?" It sounded like Dolohov.

"No, he also erroneously protected specific students by failing to report their actions as they relate to the Heir." _How does he know? Did he investigate while pretending to be Karkaroff? I suppose he would have a pretext for being concerned about Evan. He might have been able to get through Snape's Occlumency, though the theory suggests the defender has the advantage._ "Fortunately for me, we have one of them, the second most deserving of my loathing, in our numbers right now."

Draco felt himself being forcibly moved directly in front of the Dark Lord, though he had a thought it was one of the subordinates looking to be obedient while the master was angry.

"My lord-"

"You were the last to see Hogwarts standing, were you not?" It was hardly a question. "You saw Crouch as he was making to destroy it-"

"I implore my lord, there was nothing I could have done- the four of us who were left would have been killed and enough of them would be left standing-"

At least two voices muttered the incantation of the Cruciatus from behind him and he attempted to jump out of the way, but was struck all the same. The feeling of his bones splintering, of some corrosive force striking his spine like a bolt of lightning floored him with a strangled scream, and he found himself thrashing, his instincts confused between fight and flight.

"Perhaps that much is true, Malfoy," the Lord Voldemort supposed. "What further use do I have of you, if you cannot kill when I need you to kill?" He waved his wand, lifting the writhing young Slytherin from the ground. _...he punishes failure, not negligence..._ "Perhaps Severus made some effort to protect you because he saw promise, but you have confessed to me the exact opposite. I would resolve to punish him more thoroughly for making such a mistake, but I expect the both of you delight in each other's suffering more than you languish in your own." The dark wizard had adopted a bored expression by the time Draco could meet his eyes. "And yet, had you died, I would have been unable to kill you, as you are unable to return from death. Your punishment will not require your death, but it will continue until then." He waved his wand as the Malfoy heir managed to regain his footing, forming an illusion, a tower rising from a black cloud. "The best part is that your task, as likely as it is to result in your death, presents no risk to us, even as likely as it is to result in your failure," he mused.

"Is that..."

"No, you fool..." the Dark Lord answered. "This is Nurmengard Castle, a keep designed by the great Grindelwald to contain his enemies, but today he is the only inhabitant."

Nothing was said.

"Are you- my lord, are you compelling me... to free him?"

A smirk, an inhuman twitch of the lips formed under scarlet eyes.

"There is no need to destroy the prison for this, not at the present. A dragon could reduce it to ashes with enough time, but that rarely makes for a profitable venture." Polite amusement rose from the crowd. "Should I need to destroy it in the future, I shall spare not a moment. What I desire at the moment is the freedom of Grindelwald."

"My lord-" Selwyn started abruptly. "Perhaps his ambitions of world domination have not in fact been tempered by his incarceration."

"Then his release will serve my ends well. We shall allow him to gain a few followers, but keep him from reaching Britain. Does it not seem he would agree to that much?"

"Even if he were to refrain from invading this island, he threatens Secrecy itself."

"Of course, of course; I imagine no effort will be spared to contain the threat. The engagement of continental forces against him will serve my purposes and the course I have set for us."

"There are so many ways, my lord, that, in a less than ideal-"

"Malfoy may not succeed, yes. I shall curse him that his failure means death, yet his death will not hinder my aims except with the distraction of his father. I would, however, prefer that he succeed, and for that reason I shall allow him to bring along any advantage that might help, excepting the Heir."

"There are other matters to discuss-" someone started from the crowd, perhaps seeing an opportunity.

"True, true, there remains one thing I desire of this one before you may begin the many other elements of this meeting, the first in years as it is," he said as he turned Draco's head to face him. "Did the school die a noble death?"

"My lord?"

"Did she force her last enemy to besiege her walls with great conjurations of dark magic? Did she remain standing until her last ward was painstakingly unraveled?"

The questions has a mocking tone, but the young Slytherin understood.

"No. She fell quickly. I heard a fair few advanced explosion charms, but..."

He could not finish the sentence. _Had I been asked a year ago, I would have said it was effectively impossible to destroy Hogwarts._

"I harbor a suspicion the castle's enchantments had been weakened, though it will be for my servants who remain in Britain to determine the reason. I took the opportunity to examine the damage I dealt to the identification wards and the destruction reached no further. Much of what I inspected, including the Anti-Apparation sigil and the layered warding between the towers serving to protect the students was effectively intact, though there were measures against dark magic I had not known to exist, as they had been unraveled before my time."

There was a disconcerted looking about and there were disconcerted whispers. Voldemort was the oldest among them, as most of his old school friends were dead, meaning whatever removed the enchantments or warding discouraging the dark arts had predated all of them.

"That means the protections that were destroyed were destroyed deliberately." _Whose voice is that?_

"Yes, Carrow, thank you for making it clear enough for the rest of us."

"He's only saying what everyone else is-"

The Dark Lord waved his wand and everyone was silent. It had seemed he was interested in discussing the subtleties of warding, but no one else wanted to speculate, or provide additional information. There were times his father regarded him as half a Ravenclaw, and he had the boldness some would mistake as a Gryffindor trait, but there was not a mote of Hufflepuff in him, or at least that was what all the Death Eaters said.

"If discussions of interest to me have concluded, it would be well that I return to Durmstrang."

"There are other matters to attend, of course," Selwyn started back. "We have some idea of what you have been doing since your resurrection, but what are your plans for this point on?"

"Perhaps there are those of us who have forgotten, but I have not," the Lord Voldemort responded. "I am aware many among you seek my undoing, and I mean to accept your challenges to my teaching and designs. As I doubt you would propose a duel, remember that your plotting is entirely too easy for me to predict, and my magical power makes a mockery of your own."

There were no words for a few moments as it seemed everyone was quietly shelving the thought of opposing their master. They would not abandon it, no, to do so would be to abandon magic and its world, but it was impossible to oppose him while surrounded by supporters; even those with ambitions of their own would defend him, as long as it was easier to fight his opponents than join them.

_Grindelwald._

Draco occluded his mind, redoubling his concentration as some breaking of the silence went on around him.

_He is an old man in a cell for longer than I have been alive, but his legend remains._

The illusion of the tower vanished before him, suggesting the thought no longer occupied the mind of the Dark Lord.

_Everyone expects me to die._

The Death Eaters were doubtlessly bringing important matters to their lord, but the Malfoy heir could not have cared less what they said.

_That's why they took care of my father's business first._

He tried to remember anything he could about Nurmengard Castle and its sole occupant, but it was really a question he would ask Nott, or possibly Davis.

_I shall require the aid of all of my vassals._

Daring not to look around the room, it seemed everyone had forgotten him, at least for the moment.

_I must continue to hide the displeasure of the Dark Lord from them._

He caught sight of Lestrange offering him a brief look of pity.

_I must continue to hide my station among the nobility._

Selwyn appeared to be scanning the crowd.

_Their faith in me will be tested again._

Draco had stood and dusted himself off, but no one in the room was accustomed to his head being held high at all times. He doubted Voldemort thought any less of him than Snape; it was just that the prior was more outwardly expressive of his vexation. His issue with the now former Headmaster, former Potions master, former Death Eater was that he had shown some promise at a young age, naturally raising the dark wizard's expectations. Following that, which he knew had been due to no academic excellence of his own, the war rekindled and proving himself could hardly be his priority. Longbottom's complaint that everything was going better before the war made him realize that the injustice of it all had never entered his mind.

_Perhaps that's how it has been on both sides. If the war never ends, the sides never disperse. They know who is to blame for the war starting in the first place, and those same people are to blame when it picks up again._

Whatever personal costs he had endured because of the return of the Dark Lord, he knew nothing changed his stake. Protecting the magical world and its proper citizenry came leagues before his own life, which in turn was more important than what Snape thought of him.

What had the potential to change his stake was the inaction of the Death Eaters. A boy of pure blood and proud heritage was being punished unjustly, and rather than uniting against a common enemy, whom they no longer needed with the death of Albus Dumbledore, they weighed their options and kept eyes on each other. He knew there were those like his aunt who had always been loyal to her master first and everything else after, but previously it seemed there were more than enough purists to fight off the combined force of the Lord Voldemort and his passionate supporters. _They don't trust each other... since the return, the more avowed blood purists would have been making fewer outward remarks of 'blood first, power second'. The others would take this to mean there are fewer of them._ He scowled internally. _Still more would have been seduced by their own ambition. They lost their master last time, and the sclerosis to which the world of magic returned convinced a few of them that they made a mistake in letting him go to his grave, though none of them knew._

He tried to think of whether he would have saved the Dark Lord from his fate if he were transported back in time, but it seemed completely impossible to make a decision. With him dead, he knew what would happen, but if he had lived, would he have gone after Hogwarts? Before anyone else, before anything else, Tom Riddle served himself, and dying had only made him less willing to work with his followers or hear their concerns. Perhaps he was a powerful wizard on their side, but the idea of asking him to go and kill someone was unthinkable.

_He would never have gone after Dumbledore himself._

There were several reasons, but they all led back to his having no intention to ever die. Because of this, even if he knew the old fool were weaker, he would not go out and start a duel while the risk of dying was not negligible. Secondly, he hardly needed to kill someone older than he, that was what his followers needed, and as soon as they had it, he was a problem for them. _His role is that of a shield, not a curse. His true purpose is to keep powerful wizards away from the Death Eaters, because killing them would require them to kill him as well._

Thinking on Dumbledore himself, the warlock might have kept the position at Hogwarts due to an uncommon belief that Lord Voldemort was still alive, of if dead he could return. _If he died, he died under suspicious circumstances. The Potter family was odious enough, but not an obvious target by any means. His corpse was charred beyond recognition, prompting an investigation... one way or another, one day or another, if he ever came back, his target was the school and Dumbledore knew it._ He took a deep breath. _His advanced age might have contributed to a reason he kept the Philosopher's Stone at a wand's length. He wanted it where his enemy could not find it, but where he could retrieve it to drink the Elixir every so often- must have been clever enough not to rule out other means of returning from the grave._

It was a dark day he would give an old enemy credit for anything, but he could substitute naivety for folly, if he remained intent on criticizing the former Headmaster.

The meeting seemed to be mercifully nearing its conclusion around him. Before long he would suffer an international apparation and go to Durmstrang for the first time, where the shoe would be on the other foot with Evan. He scoffed internally. _I lost my advantage over him when I helped him escape and delivered him into the hands of the Dark Lord. Had I allowed his arrest, my reputation would have suffered, but he would be less of a threat to me._

"I have a final question, master," his aunt announced, only a hint of pleading in her voice. "Shall I be allowed to punish Severus? He has been exceedingly naughty, after all-"

It appeared Voldemort had hit her with a silencer, and that Mulciber failed to conceal his smirk.

"I care not what you do with him if you manage to catch him. His punishment will be greater than you can imagine."

A stillness passed through the crowd. Their lord was not given to exaggeration, but was given to boldness.

"My lord?" Aunt Bellatrix asked, having removed her own curse. _I suppose she has skill, if not sense._

"I shall take from him what is most precious, nothing more and nothing less."

The Dark Lord disapparated almost immediately, and quietly Draco supposed he had been promised there was only one more matter to attend. There was of course, a final question, presumably in the mind of every Death Eater, but certainly in his own.

_What the devil did he mean?_


	48. Epilogue: A Brave New World

Electrum was of a mind it was best to be going somewhere while talking, and it was best to be talking to someone while on the move. Consequently, Leanne was accompanying him on his trip to London by Firebolt, a necessary expense by the House of Hufflepuff. He supposed they could be going by train, but it would not leave for a few days.

"It still feels like a manner of a loss-" Leanne started; he noticed she was staying the slightest bit behind her.

"I was thinking as much in the beginning. It would have been inevitable that we would have taken control over the school eventually, but the school has only been getting more and more dangerous. It was better to rip the ward off and be done with it."

"Crouch announced that he was taking control of the school- I needn't say I agree it was better destroyed than left under a former Death Eater, but..."

"He couldn't have taken over the school as Minister. With Umbridge dead- the greatest victory for the blood purists to date- we have a only a few educators who can actually do the job. With the school being relocated to London, it'll be under a lot of Ministry wards. The Improper Use of Magic Office spearheaded a project to pick up spells by spoken incantations, but the reason it was actually funded was because we could use them to pick up human speech. We're interested to see if anyone casts a dark curse, to be sure, but it would give the Aurors a headache because there would be no way to filter them out that the enemy sympathizers couldn't replicate. The words that cause the warding to respond mostly have to do with sedition."

"That makes sense," Leanne started back, looking at the racing countryside below them. "The wards should keep out any kind of future usurpers, who may be motivated by something other than blood purism or dark magic."

It seemed doubtful, since they had no other enemies, but Electrum decided not to bring it up.

"Have you arranged the transfer of our protected students back to their homes?"

"I have to give Megan and Justin credit for that; they were the first to start arranging registered portkeys. Cedric was preoccupied with low-priority students, and he was on about getting some teachers together in a provisional school, on his own property more likely than not."

"That seems to fit his general character, tolerating the intolerant- but to get around saying what's been said, the idea of a provisional school might work."

In the distance he could see they were passing over Leicester by a red castle outside the city proper. He had always liked castles, fortifications, and the like, but their owners rarely impressed him.

"I doubt he's gone through the proper channels," the witch next to him said. "Wrapping up the year with a few more lessons might help them academically, but they're getting this idea that they can be educated outside of Ministry schools. They'll have to be made aware no credit will transfer from what they do there."

Electrum left that as it was as well. It seemed a waste of words to tell her it was a good idea.

Over the past year he had come to appreciate her help, but it could not be said he ever depended on her; the work she did work was the work of any decent individual with a sane understanding of politics. He could replace her, as much of a momentary annoyance as it would be.

"Do you intend to be an Auror?" he asked.

"There's a lot that can be accomplished in the Ministry proper," Leanne answered at length. Her momentary silence was no cause for immediate concern. "What do you have in mind?"

"I can't afford to spend the time going through training and grunt work. Some of our graduates in the last few years will have gone that route, and that's well and good, but we need to be moving in the present and I already have people capable of following my direction. It may seem like they're loyal to me specifically, and I suppose I've earned their trust, but it's more complicated than that. They wouldn't have been loyal to me if they wanted someone else, and it seems they know enough to evaluate leaders." Though it was unimportant, he was actually confused by the respect they had for him. Unless he was mistaken, he had not heard a single word of criticism.

"Well, we also have school when it starts again, so we can't find employment just yet. I'm of two minds about that, though. If we have school through the summer, and only allow parents to visit children, then it seems less likely the fence-sitters will just take their kids and disapparate. At the same time, we would be isolated and students couldn't collect information on their parents. We wouldn't be able to move around during the summer, while the children of some of our enemies will be... gaining real-world experience."

Electrum thought about it, gazing below for anyone who would fail to mistake them for birds.

"It's a negligible advantage, and I don't see Crouch getting behind it. I'm almost certain at the present that we'll be in school for the entire year, but that's once they get the teachers together." It was more of a task than it sounded, with foreign schools being an option for some of them. Worse, some of them were blood purists or sympathizers, the worst being Snape, obviously, but Slughorn was nearly as bad for associating with them, and McGonagall for defending them. Only a handful of them would be willing to join in the Ministry school, though there was some hope Charity Burbage could coax a few of the others off the fence.

Out of all the teachers, she had taught the most rewarding classes. She had only recently started as a replacement for Kirkland Hart, the Interim Muggle Studies teacher after Quirrell, and she was completely supportive of the Hufflepuffs in a meaningful way, defending them at staff meetings, as she told it. As opposed to the balanced approach her predecessor took by consulting multiple perspectives on muggles, her assigned resources stuck to the truth. The short of it was that social problems in their world were negligible, and they managed rather valiantly to alleviate the poverty resulting from an inability to perform magic. They were being abused by wizarding society by having their children subtracted from them, and died of conditions that could be easily remedied magically, making the Statute the worst offense of them all. In class Professor Burbage stated that while it was a crime to bar the clever, tolerant muggles from their resources, it was better in the short term not to burden them with magical conflict, and that they were more likely to solve their own problems than have them solved, though that could not ethically be expected of them.

It was a difficult subject for students who had grown up hearing something different, and in a matter of days the Slytherins stopped showing up entirely, but she had apparently argued to the school governors the previous year that they would not find anyone else to fill the position, with the previous two being killed by Voldemort, a scourge who deserved to be remembered and described as a scourge. They could not directly control the content she was teaching, of course, and neither Headmaster during her career attempted as much, though for entirely different reasons. According to a fifth-year at the time, Albus Dumbledore walked into one of her classes to prove the factual inaccuracy of around eight in ten claims she made with sourced texts, but did nothing more. It might have registered as an embarrassment to some, but Electrum instructed the Hufflepuffs that there was no need to doubt anything she said after that, since she would have corrected anything actually untrue. To him it was only another episode of the laughable tolerance practiced by the Headmaster.

Severus Snape disregarded Muggle Studies classes during his tenure, since his favorite students were not in attendance.

"I have some idea that Professor Burbage is favored to take charge of the curriculum," Leanne offered out of nowhere. _Good. We shouldn't go too long without some conversation taking place._

"That would be best. With the least education experience, or near enough, it should be a challenge, but she'll take on the responsibility gladly. I can't say how many teachers will follow her, but it would be good to get Lupin." It was his understanding the wizard worked quietly behind the scenes, effectively doing the work no one else was willing to do, but he knew little else. _The school will have no need of an official Headmaster, but with it likely enough McGonagall will not be returning, it would help to have someone who knows how the school has been run to ensure a functional transition._

Whatever his objections to the school and its leadership, Electrum had learned a great deal. Academically, he understood Hogwarts was considered a premier school internationally, and had improved substantially under the previous head, though he reminded himself there was significant shuffling of staff members, and much of the rating had to do with their efforts. He learned more than he could likely repay from Ebony, but not more than he could pay forward and he made sure of that. Muggle Studies was only truly interesting the last two years, and the instructor reserved more sensitive subjects for private discussions she was glad to give in Hufflepuff Basement.

Following a lecture on decreasing the average blood quantum by selective breeding, a younger student named Macmillan followed him to the boys' dormitory, where he was only going to store a completed star chart.

"Ever spared a thought for settling down? I don't know who else to ask about-"

"No," he remembered answering.

"Really? I had thought- well, it seemed to me Leanne was interested in you."

"She's just nice," Electrum explained. "You should assume a witch doesn't know you exist unless you're in the room. They have more important things to occupy their minds than you."

"How do you know you're not important to her?" the younger wizard asked, pressing the matter.

He left without answering.

Presently, it seemed the witch flying next to him had a question.

"Yes?"

"Did you ever get the list of students unaccounted for?"

"You handed it to me."

"Oh." Leanne paused, looking down below them. _We don't expect any threats from below._ "Right, well, it isn't too many... but a few of them have me worried. We know the defense team must have interacted with Justin in some way, because we found him where we heard the battle took place, but he says he lost track of Ernie after being stunned."

"Well, we know he didn't go with them. The only way they could have left was with a portkey, and he could never have gained their trust in that amount of time except by pretending to be a blood purist everyone else is trying to bring to justice."

There was some circumstance under which his companion would have laughed, since she usually did that, but it appeared this was not one of them.

"Is Ernie a pure blood?"

There was a pause. Electrum took the opportunity to scan the horizon once more.

"He's not the only one in our numbers. Long as he knows he's not to be marrying any sort of half-blood, better no one at all, really, he'll have paid his debt by the time he dies. He's helping us, so even if we had something on his family, it'd be a low priority."

"Do you think he's with his family now?"

"That's not a bad guess. It'd only be a matter of going back on his own rather than being told to go back, and if he had some way of getting there, it's all the same. He doesn't know enough to be a problem if we lost him to the Death Eaters, but it doesn't seem likely that would happen anyway. They were only seen once by any of our people, and there were no reports of them after that."

"What were they doing there? The defense team knew they were there-"

"It's only an idea, but they could have been there to kill Crouch. Weasley's no genius, but even he could have realized everyone else there would want evidence he wasn't lying, and Crouch would rather confront an imitator than allow a Death Eater to look in his head. If Weasley was willing to have his head examined, he either really saw something or he had something convincing enough to warrant an investigation. If he got Crouch inside the school, even better if he brought the Heads with him, it'd have been easy for the few Death Eaters waiting inside to be rid of him for good. Madame Maxine is hardly one of us, but I doubt she'd survive it."

"What's our plan if he dies?" Leanne asked.

"We don't have one. It sounds awful, on the face of it, not having a plan for an assassination or a successful rebellion, but it's the same reason we also don't have a plan for an asteroid crashing into the planet at the speed of light. It's just not going to happen." He exhaled. "The reason it's not going to happen is because no one is going to know where he is at any point in time, he'll have Aurors proactively seeking out the Death Eaters, and every other measure will be in place."

What he chose not to vocalize was that their enemies had families, the pride of the blood purists, and families could be taken prisoner on fictitious charges, though their arrests would provide the opportunity to search their properties, during which time the Hit Wizards could put together evidence for the charges. With most of Voldemort's men tied up trying to get their families out of the holding space they had been building in the Ministry, even if they were not personally caught or killed they would present less of a threat to Crouch. If they fled, it was only a matter of putting pressure on whatever foreign entity sheltered them, and they could dress it up as doing the other country a favor.

"So it's something that makes no sense to consider because of how unlikely it is..." the witch started back, staring off into the horizon. "What if he has a heart attack?"

"There should be a Healer somewhere near him at all times," Electrum answered after a moment. "There are people whose entire jobs will be to keep him alive, so it's doubtful from the start."

Nothing was said for a fair bit as he pondered how much it sounded like he was setting up Crouch to be killed, as if saying it was unlikely made it more likely. He knew, though, that he could state any number of unlikely circumstances and would not make them any more likely to come about. He had no reason at all to suspect New Zealand would win the next World Cup, and if anything saying that would make them less likely to win, or so went the conventional wisdom of cheering.

It was difficult to say he cared nothing for Quidditch; it was a fun game and he was good at it, and it pained him to leave the team to help lead the Hufflepuffs against the blood purists. It made him a better flier than he would have been, but the reason he missed playing was not that it could be counted as training; it was only the goodwill he could share with his teammates as they worked together to defeat the other team. He cared nothing for the fact that the Snitch was worth a hundred fifty points; it was fifteen times harder for the Seeker to catch it as it was for a Chaser to score.

He landed in Diagon Alley, having taken the aerial entrance a few times in the past.

"How did you hear about this?"

"I live in Cardiff; most of the time I take the floo. I can't take the broomstick through the fireplace, so it gave me an excuse to fly once or twice."

"Do all boys love flying?"

"Don't care," he grunted, his slight scowl not facing her as he dismounted and walked across the familiar blue-shingled roof to a loft window.

"Where is this place?"

"It's called _The Black Badger._ Short version is a handful of former Hufflepuffs since Ebony meet here to discuss our plans going forward." He looked around the upper room and saw no one. "Can't hear anything from the bakery below, so we're the first to arrive." _If the owner-operator were in today, the mill would be turning at least._

"Who else is going to show?"

"The last two years we had Angelica Lex, works under Euphemia Edgecombe in the Floo Network Authority, as well as Gwenog Jones-"

"The Quidditch player? That was your idea?"

"She's well-connected, outspoken, and she'll fight. It's more than they ever asked of me."

It seemed appropriate to change the subject as Leanne's eyes drifted to the floor, but they were interrupted by the door opening downstairs.

"Anyone in here?" a voice called.

"We're upstairs," he replied, moving some chairs about. He could not quite recognize Ebony's voice anywhere he heard it; she was relatively good at changing its sound in subtle, seemingly natural ways.

"When you said Miss Jones is well-connected..."

"Her sister just made Auror. They don't talk much, but it's something."

The Inspector stared at them from across the bakery's upper room, not taking a seat. Electrum refrained from doing as much and could not hear Leanne going against the trend.

"Hi, I don't believe we've met-" Leanne started.

"We have, but you don't recognize me," Ebony responded. "I was making myself look younger at the time, and I had a few magical defenses in place. I carried an enchanted book that made it hard to pick me out of a crowd, working with the same principle as the muggle repelling charm. You wouldn't have recognized me unless you saw me without it, and I had it with me most of the time."

The wizard could feel her eyes on him. _It's not any great honor to see her without the enchantment. Had she reached out to you instead-_

"What are we here to discuss?" the witch asked, still staring at him.

"I need the progress report from Electrum. He's my only set of eyes in Hogwarts, so we'll go from there."

"Right," he responded, thinking back to the latest figures. _She wants to know how many reliable people we'll have in the new school, and how many students will still be threats._ He went over the current breakdown of loyalties at Hogwarts, breaking the students down to allies, blood purists, and their sympathizers. The Inspector stared, unblinking, as she absorbed the information, likely aware there were exceptions within Hufflepuff, who had become enemies. He mentioned that Hogwarts had been destroyed, falling without the kind of magical defenses the Aurors expected to have to crack.

"This is about what I expected," Ebony said. "If what I have about their Houses is accurate, roughly half of the sympathizers should be attending the Ministry school. They'll blend in with what we have, because they'll be in the minority at that point, and no one is going to fight for the legality of dark magic with Crouch's people watching." Regarding the point about the school falling, she offered a momentary, amused smile. "I would hope you did not believe I wasted my time there."

Leanne looked like she had a question.

"Yes?"

"Well, I don't know how to ask this, but, well, doesn't this sort of put you out of a job?"

There was a pause. The Department employee cocked her head slightly.

"I suppose it does. Without Hogwarts and its library full of dark magic and student population full of blood purists, I expect I'll have to be transferred, possibly to a different office." It was uncomfortable, the expression she was wearing. Ebony did not usually smile.

"I suppose you could go back to the Improper Use-" Leanne started.

"That position has been filled. I have something else in mind. It's actually something I've wanted to do for a long time." Electrum knew better than to ask anything; it would only further delay her. Eventually, she seemed to decide she had enough fun. "Defense against the Dark Arts."

The wizard exhaled slightly in amusement. _They just can't keep you away from the young and impressionable, can they?_

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading _Beyond Fear or Reason_. As always, I'm happy to read reviews of it, even if it's been years after I published it. If it hasn't, don't worry, the next book in the series will start next Friday. All the characters you hate and hate to love will be back in _Much Worse than Death._**


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